


Polpetto

by writergirl7



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Caretaking, Cooking, Guardian-Ward Relationship, Kidnapping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-03-29 23:31:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19030171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writergirl7/pseuds/writergirl7
Summary: The National Gifted Act decrees that all Gifted who are unable to care for themselves are given into the care of guardians.  Will's not happy about having a guardian, but Hannibal is an acceptable guardian.  Things become ominous when a sinister character targets Will.





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

 

Because of a new law barely a year old, Will was seated on a bench outside a courtroom, waiting to hear what his fate would be.  It was incredible how quickly someone’s life could change through no actions of one’s own, but as his dad would have said, them’s the breaks.  It sucked beyond belief and Will was still trying to wrap his head around it all.

 

Ten years ago, a prominent social scientist had presented a paper at a conference outlining that America had been losing their brightest and most talented people due to multiple factors.  The first factor had been that too many of them were not having their talents identified when they were children, so their talents were never developed. The second factor was that they were not provided with an environment that would encourage such development.  The third factor, according to that esteemed scientist, was that once they were adults, no one was making sure that they were all right. People assumed that since someone was an adult, they could take care of themselves, but the scientist had stated in his paper that there were some highly-gifted who struggled with such things simply because they were gifted.

 

He’d gone on to present case study after case study of thwarted potential.  Some of his case studies, for lack of anyone in their lives to notice that something was wrong, ended up in mental wards, on the streets, or addled with drugs or dead due to suicide.  The way he’d presented the case studies and their numbers had made an impression on the public consciousness, and a new movement had been born.

 

Historians researched the phenomenon and wrote new biographies of famous screw-ups, viewed through the lense of “highly gifted” and “thwarted potential”.  Geneticists had gotten in on the act and had actually managed to pinpoint certain gene markers that allowed them to say that, yes, the criteria actually could be classified as a genetic condition. 

 

Children were now tested when they started school to see if they were gifted.  If they tested within a certain range, enrichment and special classes were held for them.  Adults, of course, had been tested shortly after the law had been passed, and Will, for some reason, had scored well enough to qualify as “highly gifted.”  The genetic test had been even more damning. What that meant was that as long as he was well, there was no cause for concern and he was able to live his life as he pleased.  When problems arose, however, then things changed. That paper and the movement had led to the National Gifted Act. If a person was highly gifted and they had the genetic markers, and if they were proven incapable of taking care of themselves, then a guardian was appointed for them.  That was the decision that Will was waiting to hear. 

 

A month previously, Will had been in the middle of a lecture when he started feeling weak and very, very tired.  He’d swayed on his feet and grabbed hold of the table beside him and the odd feeling passed. During his next lecture the feeling and weakness returned and the next thing he knew, he was lying on the floor and staring up at the startled faces of his students.  On Jack’s insistence and because it was the law, Will had reported to the hospital for an exam and tests. He had a full physical exam from a general practitioner and a full battery of labs done, and the following week he’d had a session with a psychologist (which had not gone well).  The doctor and the psychologist had contacted a judge and recommended that Will have a guardian appointed for him.

 

His coworkers had had a field day when he let them know why he was taking off work for a few days.  He’d been in the morgue with all of them and their reactions had been less than helpful.

 

"You know, Will, with your neuroatypical self, this kind of thing is pretty common - some people just can't manage to function normally after experiencing vast amounts of stress and sleep disturbances, which I remember you mentioning you were having not long ago. Your body shuts down to protect itself - like it did last week in the classroom. In front of all of your students.  It's a biological mechanism designed to save your brain," Bev finished her comment with a smile. 

 

"Don't forget falling asleep in the car on the way to that crime scene in Georgia!" Zeller called out from the supply closet.  

 

"Or that time we were in the the lab and you passed out in the chair and wouldn't move for six hours," Price commented thoughtfully from beside the autopsy table.

 

"You guys can stop at any time, you know."  Will reached up to rub at his forehead. His present headache just wouldn’t quit.

 

"We're right, Will.  You just have to admit it...you're special.  You're Gifted. That means you just need a bit of help when things get rough,"  Bev patted his hand and moved away. "Seriously, though. Eat something." She winked and walked off, leaving Will glaring at the wall.  He was  _ not _ a child that needed to be taken care of, no matter what the  _ law _ said.

 

The judge had called Will and asked him to meet with him, and because he had no choice in the matter, Will had gone.

 

“Your doctor and psychologist have suggested a guardianship for you, Mr. Graham.  Do you have any idea why?”

 

Will thought about it.  “Because I collapsed in class?”

 

“According to your medical and mental health report, that’s only a small part of it,” the judge had replied.  “You are close to twenty pounds underweight, you’re showing signs of physical exhaustion, and your psychologist says that your nerves are so tight that he’s amazed they haven’t snapped.  You told him that you have a very stressful job. Is that true?”

 

“I do fine with the teaching, but not so much with the profiling.  Still, I help save lives, so that’s good.”

 

The judge gave him a long look.  “But not so good for you, isn’t that right?”

 

Will shrugged.  “I’m fine.”

 

The judge nodded.  “I see. I’ve been looking over your file, and there’s been one person who’s stepped forward to be your guardian, should one prove necessary.”

 

Will blinked in surprise.  “Who?”

 

“Jack Crawford.  He told me that his wife has already agreed to have you with them.”

 

Anxiety clawed its way up Will’s throat.  “I work with Jack.” The thought of having Jack as his guardian, to never have the pressure of Jack’s eye off of him, was terrifying.  

 

“Do you think that would be a good idea?”

 

Involuntarily, Will shook his head and shrugged a second later.  He really didn’t know what answer to give. “Jack can be...intense.”

 

“That was my impression of him,” the judge confided in him.  “Do you have anyone else? Family? Other friends?”

 

“Not really,” Will sighed.  “Alana, maybe, but that wouldn’t be a good idea.  I don’t have many friends.”

 

“Is there anyone else you trust?”

 

Will shrugged again.  

 

“Jack Crawford told me that you’ve been seeing a psychiatrist, a Dr. Hannibal Lecter,” the judge said, reading the name from Will’s file.  “Would it be all right if I speak to him?”

 

Jack would have done his best to present himself in a positive light to the judge, but Hannibal, Will knew, would be honest.  “Sure.”

 

“All right.  You’ll know my decision soon.  Until then, take care of yourself.”

 

Will had no idea what Hannibal had said; Will hadn’t had a chance to see him.  He’d been too busy with teaching classes and with a case that had taken him out of town with Jack.  He’d been forcing himself to eat and he’d spent the nights doing his best to sleep, but he had a feeling that it was too little, too late.  He could feel people’s eyes on him, and it made him nervous.

 

Now, he was seated outside the judge’s chambers on a bench, awaiting his fate.  He’d either go back home without having to worry, or...he’d get a guardian.

 

If he ended up with anybody, then they’d damn well better let him bring his dogs.  It didn’t matter if he ended up with a guardian (well, it mattered a lot, but he felt he needed a bit of perspective), but keeping his dogs was non-negotiable.  They depended on him. How incapable of taking care of himself could he be if he remembered to take care of a whole pack of dogs? Couldn’t that darned judge take that into account?

 

The tension headache that had been pounding on his head all morning intensified and he pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to ease it.  He’d taken Tylenol and ibuprofen but the medicines hadn’t touched it. Of all days for him to get a headache, it had to be today. Sometimes, it felt like Fate was pointing and laughing at him.

 

“Will?”

 

Will brought his head up and found himself looking right into Hannibal’s eyes.  “Dr. Lecter?”

 

“We agreed to call each other by our first names, Will,” Hannibal reminded him, taking a seat beside him on the bench.  “You look like you’re not feeling well.”

 

“Just a tension headache.  I’ve already taken something, but it’s not helped.”

 

“With all this strain you’re under, it’s not surprising that you have a headache.”

 

The door to the judge’s chambers opened and the man himself stood in the doorway.  “Dr. Lecter?”

 

“A pleasure to meet you in person,” Hannibal said, getting to his feet and offering his hand to shake.  

 

“Thank you for coming,” the judge told him, taking his hand.  “Please, come in.” He paused and fixed his attention on Will.  “Mr. Graham, would you step into the conference room on your right and wait there, please?  I’ll be with you shortly.” 

 

Feeling as if he were walking the Green Mile, Will grabbed his bag and did as the judge asked.  He’d just closed the door behind him when he got a nasty shock. 

 

“Hi, Will.”

 

Will jumped and whirled to face the speaker.  “Jack!”

 

“Didn’t know I was in here?” Jack said, looking unhappy about something.

 

Will felt his anxiety ramp up a few notches.  “No, the judge asked me to come in here and wait.”

 

“He spent maybe five minutes talking to me and then he showed me in here,” Jack said, running a finger along the surface of the table.  “How you feeling?”

 

Will shrugged.  “No worse than usual.  Um, is it true that you offered to be my guardian if the judge decided I needed one?”

 

“I’d say it’s a done deal,” Jack said flatly.  “It’s clear you can’t take care of yourself.”

 

Will wondered what would happen if he reminded Jack he was under a lot of stress and just what the cause of that stress was.  “I’ve been stressed out.”

 

“You need to get your act together,” Jack sighed.  “You  _ want _ to be signed into someone’s care?”

 

Will opened his mouth to answer and shut it again.  There was nothing he could say to get Jack to understand just what was wrong.

 

“You’ve been spending too much time with fish; you’re starting to look like one,” Jack muttered.  “How do you expect to do your job when you’re forgetting to eat and not sleeping?”

 

“Sleeping’s difficult,” Will snapped.  “I have a lot of nightmares, you know.”

 

“You’re letting things affect you too much.”

 

“Jack, we’ve been over this,” Will said patiently, feeling immeasurably tired.  “I can’t keep it from affecting me. The best way to prevent that is to not expose myself to it.”

 

“C’mon, Will!”

 

A door in the far wall opened, revealing the judge and Hannibal.  “Agent Crawford, I’m ready for you.”

 

Jack pushed away from the table and stormed into the judge’s chambers.  Hannibal joined Will. 

 

“Has Uncle Jack been pushing his teacup again?” Hannibal asked.

 

“Let’s just say that he needs a mug, not a teacup,” Will complained, dropping into a chair.  The headache was digging its teeth into his head and gnawing. He raised a hand to massage the back of his neck, hoping for some relief.  

 

“Please allow me,” Hannibal said, draping his coat over a chair and moving to stand behind Will.  “I’ll be able to reach where it’s most needed. Why don’t you take off your jacket and tie so I can reach the base of your neck?”

 

Will felt too miserable to argue and did as Hannibal asked.  Shortly Hannibal’s hands were stroking his neck and gently kneading the tight muscles that were causing Will so much misery.  What Hannibal was doing was so relaxing that Will relaxed enough that he didn’t notice when Hannibal unfastened the top two buttons of his shirt to work on the area where his neck met his shoulders.

 

“How long has it been since you’ve had a full night of sleep?” Hannibal asked, his fingers working on a knot.

 

“Mmmnnngh,” Will groaned as the knot released.  “Don’t know.”

 

“And did you eat this morning?”

 

“A bit,” Will confessed.  “Some cereal.” He was not going to tell Hannibal that he’d gotten sick from nerves before even leaving the house.

 

“And how long did it stay in your stomach before you were sick?”

 

Will turned his head to stare at Hannibal and Hannibal’s hands turned his head back so that he faced forward again.

 

“Vomit leaves a sour smell about a person, and I have a keen nose,” Hannibal reminded him, continuing the massage.  “Did you try eating or drinking anything else?”

 

‘I had some water when I got here,” Will said truthfully.  “Other than that, no.”

 

“Perhaps the next thing you should try eating is a clear soup, if your stomach is that upset,” Hannibal advised, fastening Will’s buttons and setting his tie and collar to rights.  He circled Will and took the chair in front of him. “Is it all right if I work on your hands?”

 

“You’re going to massage my hands?”

 

“Certain points on the hands induce relaxation,” Hannibal told him, holding out his hands toward Will.  “Please. I promise, it doesn’t hurt. Right hand first.”

 

Will gave him his hand and reminded himself to relax as Hannibal unfastened his cuff button and rolled up his sleeve.  Shortly Hannibal was massaging his hand and wrist and forearm, and Will could feel himself relaxing all over again. “Maybe I should make this a habit.”

 

“I believe it would be beneficial.”  Hannibal said, working the tips of his thumbs on a place between Will’s index finger and thumb.  “How’s the headache?”

 

Will had leaned his head back into the headrest behind him and closed his eyes.  “Mmmm. Much better. It feels like I have a new head.” 

 

“That’s very good.  Just focus on relaxing your neck and shoulders, all right?”

 

Vaguely Will felt Hannibal switch to his left hand, and then he was doing something to both of them together, and after that things got hazy.  When he next opened his eyes the judge was sitting in Hannibal’s seat. “Judge Peterson?”

 

The judge smiled.  “Hello, Will. Feeling any better?”

 

“Yeah,” Will admitted.  “I can’t believe I fell asleep.  How long was I out?”

 

“No more than a half-hour.  Do you know why I asked you to wait in here, Will?”

 

“Because it’s close to your chambers?” Will guessed, his sleepy wits trying to wake up.  That half-hour had been the most peaceful bit of sleep he’d had in ages. 

 

“That, and because it allows me to monitor how potential guardians interact with their potential wards.  Due to the particulars of the Highly Gifted Act, I can watch this room via a web cam in real time. I must say that I am concerned about your interaction with Agent Crawford.  He makes you nervous, doesn’t he?”

 

Will shrugged, not feeling as if he could answer.  

 

“It’s based on that observed interaction that I am declining Agent Crawford’s offer of guardianship.”

 

Will felt as if the sun had come out from behind the clouds.  “Really?”

 

“Yes, really,” Judge Peterson told him.  “However, I do feel that you need a guardian, Mr. Graham.  I feel you will thrive with the right kind of care.”

 

“I can take care of myself,” Will protested.  

 

“I’m having a hard time believing that, son,” Judge Peterson said kindly, practically radiating ‘affable older man.’  “You’re very underweight, you’ve not been sleeping, and you collapsed. No, on those criteria alone, I would be remiss in my job if I did not assign you a guardian.”

 

Will wondered if it was too late for him to emigrate somewhere else, preferably with an ocean between him and Jack Crawford.  

 

“I did raise the question with Dr. Lecter, and he was amenable to the suggestion.”

 

Will did a double-take.  “Wait, what? Hannibal?”

 

“He actually agreed with me that you need a guardian,” Judge Peterson told him, confounding Will further.  “He said that the fact you fell asleep so quickly was a cause for concern. He said that he would be willing to be your guardian during the week and the weekends could be your own.  You would be able to maintain your house and other possessions and spend the weekends there. Dr. Lecter has said that he will make arrangements for your dogs at his home.”

 

Will stared at him, not quite sure what to think.

 

“Why don’t you speak to Dr. Lecter regarding his becoming your guardian?” Judge Peterson suggested.  “You and he can discuss it and come to an agreement. If you feel it’s not possible I will look at other options for you, but it is my personal belief that wards do better with people they already know.”

 

“If I refuse Dr. Lecter as my guardian, then what are the options for me?  Would I be assigned a social worker or someone like that who would come out to my home to check on me?”

 

Judge Peterson shook his head.  “No, you would be assigned a guardian by the court.  There are a few in the area who would be available for you, but you would be at their home full time.”

 

Will regarded him with alarm.  “What about my dogs?”

 

“They may allow you to bring one or two, or they may insist you make other arrangements.”

 

Will buried his head in his hands and groaned.  “Why? Why is this even necessary? I’m a grown man!”

 

“A highly gifted grown man who is having trouble caring for himself,” the judge corrected.  “This law that is having such an influence on your life right now was put in place to protect you.  According to your file, you need such protection.”

 

Will looked him in the eye.  “This law stinks.”

 

The judge gave him a look that told him he understood why Will felt the way he did.  “Yes, I hear that often. Still, there’s this to consider: If a child or an older person is not able to care for himself, it is the responsibility of society to make sure that he is cared for.  I feel that the same principle applies in your case. You are an extremely gifted person who is having difficulty right now. Shouldn’t the same consideration be shown to you? Besides, guardianship is not permanent, Mr. Graham.  You know that after a period of five years you can apply for autonomy.”

 

“It’s impossible to know if it would be granted to me since the law’s still so new,” Will pointed out.

 

“The only way you’ll know for certain is if you never apply,”Judge Peterson reminded him. “I can give you a period of forty-eight hours in which to consider Dr. Lecter’s offer, but then I have to submit the case.  Either you’ll stay with Dr. Lecter, or the court will appoint a guardian for you out of our available candidates.”

 

Feeling as if he were trying to bail out a sinking ship with a thimble, Will nodded. “Okay.  I’ll talk to Dr. Lecter. Should I call you to let you know when I make a decision?”

 

“A phone call will be fine.  Once you’ve communicated your decision, I will have the paperwork prepared for you and Dr. Lecter to sign.”

 

Will got to his feet, shook the judge’s hand, and fled into the hall.  Hannibal was out there, seated on the bench.

 

“Hello, Will,” Hannibal said. “Finished with Judge Peterson?”

 

“You really offered to be my guardian?”

 

Hannibal gave him a thoughtful smile.  “I did, yes. Jack is wholly unsuitable due to his nature, and I had a good feeling that you wouldn’t want to end up with someone you didn’t know.  Was I wrong to offer?”

 

“No, I was just...surprised, I suppose.  I figured that something like this would be taking friendship too far.”

 

“Friends help each other,” Hannibal told him, touching his shoulder.  “Now, you are pale and you look tired. You need something to eat and a chance to rest.  Forgive me for presuming, but I’ve taken the liberty of asking Alana to care for your pack tonight.  She’ll feed them and walk them for you, and she’ll let them out in the morning. Why don’t we seek out something delicious to eat and then head to my home for this evening, and we can talk about this situation?”

 

What else could Will do but agree?  With a nod, he followed Hannibal out of the building to the parking lot.  Once there, Hannibal asked Will to follow him to their destination, and they would talk more once they had themselves on the outside of some dinner.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Only Hannibal Lecter would choose the most expensive restaurant in the area that didn’t require a reservation as the place to go for a friendly dinner. Will felt as if he were handing his life over when he handed off his keys to the parking valet, and Hannibal joined him on the red carpet leading to the front door. “I can’t afford this place.”

“Tonight it’s my treat, Will,” Hannibal promised. “You’ve had a trying day and you deserve a good meal.”

“This place isn’t ‘a good meal,’ it’s a major indulgence.”

“I feel you deserve to be indulged. Come on.”

Will didn’t have the energy to argue. He followed Hannibal in through the front doors and a hostess led them to a table. From the Tuscan landscapes on the wall and the music playing, it was an Italian restaurant.

“This is Baltimore’s undiscovered treasure,” Hannibal told him as they took their seats. “It has all the little touches that the more fashionable restaurants have and yet hardly anyone knows about it. Furthermore, the head chef is a genius in the kitchen. I haven’t had such wonderful Italian food since my last trip to Florence.”

Will wondered if he could poke a little fun at Hannibal and decided he could risk it. “So, is it anything like Olive Garden?”

Oh, the look on Hannibal’s face. It was priceless. 

“No. It is leagues beyond Olive Garden. Trust me.”

“Il dottore!” a voice boomed from the kitchen. A door swung open and an absolutely enormous man bore down on their table like a warship. “Dottor Lecter! Benvenuto! Buon sera!”

Hannibal rose to shake the man’s hand and what followed was a rapid volley of Italian that Will didn’t understand. Beyond “pizza” and “gelato,” he really didn’t have much Italian.

“Ah, here I am, babbling,” the man said at last in English, throwing up his hands. “Who is this little one?”

Little one? Will wanted to smack the guy, but then again, the man was head and shoulders above him and then some. Maybe staying quiet would be more prudent.

“This is my very good friend, Will Graham. Will, this is Angelo Conti, the owner and head chef of Ristorante.”

Will shook his hand when it was offered. “Pleased to meet you.”

Angelo regarded him with horror. “Has no one ever fed you! Brodo! Pane! We must have both at once!”

“Ribollita, if you please, Angelo,” Hannibal said quickly.

Angelo turned to regard Hannibal. “Ribollita? Si, si, it will be right out.” He ran into the kitchen like a runaway train, shouting orders in Italian.

Will and Hannibal re-took their seats and Will was glad that there were so few people in the place this late in the day. “What’s ribollita?”

“A soup, traditionally made using leftover bread and vegetables from peasant garden plots. The name means ‘reboiled,’ and it is quite good and very wholesome. It is comfort food at its finest and I think you will enjoy it.”

Hannibal deftly turned the talk then to Italian food and its traditions so Will didn’t have to think about anything that had happened that day. The only interruption to their talk was a waiter showing up with three different bottles of wine for them to choose from and a large basket of steaming breadsticks. On Hannibal’s advice Will took only a small glass of white wine and he had to eat a breadstick before he could drink any of it. Even then, he was only allowed to have a sip. “I know my alcohol tolerance, Hannibal.”

“I’m aware, Will, but I’m also aware that your stomach has been mostly empty for the past few days. I’m sure that you’ll have a much more pleasant meal and an easier drive home if you aren’t befuddled by too much alcohol too soon.”

Angelo brought them their soup, himself, and stood guardian over them while they took their first spoonfuls. “Ah, si, si!” he said happily, seeing Will swallow his first mouthful. “Mangia, polpetto! Good to see you eating! Eat that up and I will be back with more!”

Hannibal looked mighty amused about something as Angelo hurried off. Will swallowed his present mouthful and looked Hannibal in the eye. “Okay, out with it. What did he say that’s so funny?”

Hannibal raised his eyebrows and pretended to be surprised. “Did he say something?”

Will maintained eye contact. “You know he did. Now what did he say?”

“He told you to eat.”

“And what else?”

“He said, yes, yes.”

Will gave Hannibal a long and patient look. “What did he say after ‘mangia’?”

Hannibal was fighting down a smile; Will was sure of it. He kept looking Hannibal in the eye, waiting for an answer.

“It’s a term of endearment,” Hannibal said, glancing at Will’s bowl. “You know, Angelo will be very put out if you don’t manage more of your soup.”

“I’ll eat the whole bowl if you tell me what that final word meant.”

“If you don’t eat that quickly, Angelo will come back out here and stand by your side until you eat it.”

Will took another spoonful, chewed, and swallowed. Hannibal was right: the soup was delicious. It was light, yet satisfying, thick with kale, beans, carrots and other vegetables, and the broth had been made more substantial with bread. “Why don’t you want to tell me?”

“It may embarrass you. Angelo gives his heart quickly and whole-heartedly to people, especially if he feels they need feeding. The deeper he perceives this need to be, the stronger his endearments.”

“I won’t be embarrassed,” Will promised. “I’d just like to know what he said.”

“Meatball.”

Will glanced down at his soup. “Where?”

Now Hannibal chuckled. “No, that’s what the word meant. Meatball. It’s a term of endearment for youngsters.”

Will sat back in his chair and took another spoonful of soup to give himself time to think. “Huh. I didn’t expect that.”

“Few would, in this situation. Do you like the ribolitta?”

“It’s delicious, thanks.”

Will had almost finished the bowl of soup when Angelo was back, carrying two small plates for them. On each were three golden brown balls of...something, a bit bigger than a golf ball, yet smaller than a baseball.

“Arancini,” Angelo said, as if that explained everything. “You eat that and build yourself up, hey, polpetto?”

Hannibal had already picked up his knife and fork and cut into one, letting the steam out. Will followed suit and found himself with a fried ball of rice that had been mixed with peas, mozzarella, and meat and tomato sauce. After his first bite he had to close his eyes and savor it. When he opened them again, Angelo was gone, off creating kitchen magic and mayhem, no doubt. “Wow.”

Hannibal was already on his second arancini. “Good, aren’t they?”

“Where have these been all my life?”

“Italy. Generally, you would have these before your soup in Italy, but both Angelo and I felt that soup would be a better start for you. He’ll bring the next course in a few minutes.”

Will stared. “There’s more?”

“Certainly. Generally, an Italian meal consists of several courses, but I’ve asked Angelo to provide us with soup, an appetizer, a main dish, and a dessert. To inflict a full Italian dinner on you would be more than you’d be able to handle right now, given how lightly you’ve been eating.”

The next course was ossobuco with risotto and a green salad on the side and Will was glad to see something familiar. Hannibal had made the same thing for him not long ago and it had been absolutely delicious. To the delight of Angelo, he dove into it with enthusiasm and sighed with bliss when the first bite was gone. “Oh, my. Hannibal, did you teach Angelo this recipe or did he teach it to you?” 

Both men started chuckling. 

“Let’s just say that we’ve learned from each other,” Hannibal offered after a moment. 

Once Will had made a significant dent in the ossobuco Angelo returned to their table to whisk away their plates, leaving them to sip their wine while a waiter poured them coffee. “What did you order for dessert?”

Hannibal gave him another of those darn smiles of his. “I think you’ll like it.”

A minute later Angelo returned, bearing two plates. On each plate was a mound of...something...and inserted perpendicularly into the top of it was a lacy...something else. Will could smell sugar and lemon zest and vanilla and a sweet caramel-like scent. The whole thing had been sprinkled with powdered sugar and somehow they’d managed a lace-like pattern on the plate. 

Hannibal smiled again at his confusion. “Lemon panna cotta with a vanilla lace cookie edged with caramelized sugar. It’s one of my favorites of Angelo’s recipes. It’s light and refreshing with just the right flavors to make you feel indulged.”

“Si, si, you enjoy, polpetto,” Angelo said, patting Will’s shoulder. “Anytime you wish this, I will make it for you.”

Will was still staring at the dessert. “It looks too pretty to eat. Now I know why people take pictures of meals when they eat out.”

Hannibal nearly choked on his wine. “If you feel the need to snap a picture of your meal to help you remember it, then you’re clearly eating at the wrong restaurant.”

“I meant to say that this looks like art,” Will clarified.

“You can enjoy an artwork without snapping a picture,” Hannibal promised him. 

Angelo was still hovering, so will picked up his dessert spoon and scooped up a tiny portion of the panna cotta. It was cold and light and it felt like he was swallowing fresh, summer air. “Oh...wow. This is wonderful.”

Angelo gave his shoulder another few pats and practically skipped into the kitchen, humming something that sounded suspiciously like Italian opera.

“I think you just made Angelo very happy.”

“A talented artist deserves praise,” Will said, paraphrasing a quote that he’d heard Hannibal say at one point. He continued spooning up portions of the panna cotta and alternated them with bites of the cookie. The flavors were just...perfect. 

They finished their meal within the hour despite lingering over their dessert and coffee, and Angelo himself saw them to the door, telling them over and over again that they were welcome anytime and that the polpetto should eat more.

“Are you sure he’s not an Italian nonna?” Will asked as they waited for the parking valet to bring their cars.

“He would have made an excellent one, don’t you think?”

Will followed Hannibal to his house and parked his beat-up hatchback next to the Bentley. Will followed Hannibal into the kitchen like a duckling and found himself seated at the counter while Hannibal fussed with some herbs and hot water. “What are you making?”

“An herbal tea,” Hannibal answered, measuring ingredients precisely into a teapot. “Passiflora, hops, chamomile. Should help you sleep after the day you’ve had.”

“I thought we were going to talk about...you know, the whole thing. Guardianship.”

Hannibal set the tea to steep and looked Will in the eyes. “I know that you loathe the idea of it, but I do hope that I would be more acceptable than a stranger...or Jack.”

Will thought about Jack and felt himself give a mental cringe. Jack was hard enough to work with; living with him would be impossible. “You’re right; you would be. You wouldn’t mind me crowding your space?”

“Not at all. We’d each have our own spaces here in the house. There’s a downstairs room that is a lumber room at present, but it can be converted easily into a sitting room for you, and I wouldn’t mind if the dogs bedded down there at night.”

Will felt awkward. “Ah, lately they’ve been sleeping with me. Some of them are on the bed with me and the others curl up on the floor around the bed, or on the sofa.”

Hannibal went still and appeared to think. “Have you ever considered the fact that sleeping with a pack of dogs might be detrimental to your sleep?”

Will fought down a smile. “Not really. It’s like cuddling with a bunch of teddy bears.”

Hannibal made the best expressions when something outraged his sensibilities. “I’ll take that under advisement. Still, you can bring your pack with you when you move in. I won’t enter your sitting room unless you invite me to join you, and I won’t enter your bedroom without knocking. I’d ask you to do the same for my bedroom and my study, but the rest of the house is open to you. I just ask that you not enter the basement; there is a great deal of equipment and other items stored down there. Unless you know where to stand or how to pass by things, you might damage either yourself or whatever item you’re nearest.”

Will stared at him and then looked away. “Just how much culinary stuff do you have?”

“A great deal, and most of it is old and expensive and difficult to move. Hence, its location. I found it easier to leave the equipment where it was rather than have it moved again.” So saying, he placed a strainer over a teacup, poured tea through it, and added some honey to sweeten it. “If you’d like to call Judge Peterson tomorrow, we can finish up the paperwork and we can get your rooms arranged to your liking by the weekend. You’ll be able to spend your weekend at your home, and you can return here Sunday evening, bringing your dogs with you.”

Will sipped at the tea and thought about it. “Sounds like you’re doing the hardest part for me.”

Hannibal tilted his head to the side. “And what is that?”

“Planning everything and figuring things out.”

Hannibal gave him a smile, as enigmatic as the Mona Lisa. “Happy to help, Will.”


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Will woke up the following morning feeling warm, cozy, and eminently well-rested. He and Hannibal had talked for a little while longer while Will sipped his tea, mostly about logistical things, like who would do what around the house and what Hannibal would expect Will to do if something unexpected came up and he wouldn’t make it home. 

Unsurprisingly, Hannibal had a staff to clean for him, so cleaning and laundry were non-issues. Hannibal insisted that he would cook the meals they had, but if Will wished to make something, he was welcome to do so, he just had to make sure he knew how to use certain pieces of equipment. The dogs, though, would be Will’s sole responsibility, from walking to grooming, feeding and watering, to keeping them entertained. Hannibal would step in, if necessary, but Will’s dogs were his to see to. 

Will stretched under the covers and thought about their conversation last night. It had been Hannibal mostly giving suggestions about what he thought would work and Will agreeing to them, but a few times Will had offered one or two suggestions of his own. Just as he’d started feeling really sleepy, they’d wrapped up their talk and Hannibal had shown him to the guest room. The bed had been turned down, a set of nightclothes had been resting on the pillow, and Will had been unable to resist the siren call of that bed. He was changed and under the comforter within three minutes and falling asleep, barely able to answer Hannibal wishing him pleasant dreams. He could remember at one point waking up, shaking and gasping from a nightmare, but Hannibal had heard him and talked with him until he felt ready to lie down again. His last memory of the night before had been hearing Hannibal’s voice, reading aloud to him.

Thinking about it now, he was a bit embarrassed. He was a grown man and Hannibal had all but put him to bed and to top it off, had read him a bedtime story. While it had been nice at the time, it was embarrassing in the morning.

Maybe he shouldn’t think about it.

A knock on the door brought him out of his thoughts. “Come in?”

Hannibal opened the door. “Good morning, Will. Feeling better this morning?”

Will sat up. “Actually, yeah.”

Hannibal smiled. “I’m glad. You have half an hour before breakfast is ready. I’ve brought your clothes for you.”

Will got out of bed and took the clothes from Hannibal. Soft cotton twill khaki pants, a light blue cotton shirt that was the softest thing he’d ever felt, a darker blue silk tie, a matching blazer, and of course, the requisite undergarments and socks. He paused and stared at what he was holding. He knew for sure that none of these were things he’d bought himself. “What happened to the things I wore yesterday?”

“They’re in the wash.” Hannibal held out a shoe box. “Here are the appropriate shoes. You should find everything you need in the bathroom. Best hurry.”

Will disappeared into the bathroom and glanced at the shoes. Italian leather, no less. The whole outfit was probably worth more than his car was. Incredible. He showered, shaved, and dressed, and emerged from the bathroom feeling as if he’d just stepped out of a men’s catalog. He certainly looked the part---and smelled it. He didn’t know the brands of the body wash, shampoo, or aftershave he’d just used, but he was willing to bet that they were all expensive, and that none of them came in a bottle with a ship on it.

Sighing, he made his bed and thought about things. Was this what he could look forward to now that Hannibal was going to be his guardian? Will plumped the pillow and shook his head. No, he needed to talk to Hannibal so they could set up some ground rules. The first one would be that Will would retain his own wardrobe, thank you very much, and that Hannibal wasn’t allowed to tamper with it. All he had to do was be firm about the issue and it should resolve itself. Will grabbed his messenger bag and headed downstairs, the scent of coffee and cinnamon making him hurry. Whatever he smelled, he wanted some.

“Did you sleep well, Will?”

“Actually, yeah,” Will admitted, taking a seat at the island to watch Hannibal cook. “What are you making that smells so good?”

“Cinnamon rolls to start, with sausage patties and fruit salad on the side,” Hannibal answered. “Coffee?”

“Please,” Will breathed. He needed coffee the way a thirsty man needed drink. “So, when did you get these clothes? I know they’re not yours.”

Hannibal glanced up from the pan of sausage patties. “Those? They were meant for your birthday, but last night seemed as good a time as any to give them to you. I do feel that you should branch out in terms of clothing, Will. I think you’ll find that those are as comfortable as anything you would have chosen for yourself. They should be appropriate for your classes today.”

Will felt a moment’s panic--he couldn’t remember what day it was! He pulled out his phone and checked his calendar. Yes, there it was, a class in two hours, then lunch, and then two more classes, and then he was free. Worried now, he checked his bag and breathed a sigh of relief when he found his laptop and his notes in his bag. Thank goodness. He was prepared.

Hannibal held out a full plate to Will. “Here you are. I hope you’re hungry.”

“It’s incredible that anybody could be hungry after that meal last night, but yeah, I am, actually. This smells wonderful.”

“I hope you enjoy it.” 

Will dug in and had to pause once the taste of the sausage hit him. “Oh, mmm. This is perfect.”

“I’m glad.”

They ate in silence for a while and then Hannibal poured Will another cup of coffee. “I was wondering if there were any particular decor you would like in your sitting room and your bedroom.”

Will shrugged. “Not particularly. At home I have things that make me feel comfortable.”

Hannibal considered Will’s words. “Hmm. I see. Well, we have time. What time will you be finished with your classes today?”

Will checked his calendar again. “At four.”

“Did you want to call Judge Peterson today?”

Will sighed. “I know I have to, but I wish I didn’t. I just seems...I don’t know. Unfair. Unfair that I have to give my responsibility for myself over to someone else because of some stupid law.”

Hannibal reached over and touched the back of Will’s hand. “I can understand that you wouldn’t like it. If I were in your position, I wouldn’t like it, either. However, we must both face the facts as they are. If we try to ignore them, that will just make things more difficult.”

“It’s generous that you’re including yourself in this with me.” Will took a few sips of coffee.

“Not generous at all, since it’s the truth.”

Once breakfast was finished, Will made that dreaded call to Judge Peterson, who said that the paperwork would be ready for them by that evening, and all they needed to do was stop by and sign. Will thanked the judge and hung up the phone. 

“Ready?” Hannibal asked, once he heard Will hang up.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“You should get going,” Hannibal warned him, glancing at the clock. “Given the state of traffic, you might be late if you delay your departure any longer.” He handed Will his messenger bag.

“Thanks,” Will said, pulling the strap over his shoulder. Idly he noted that the bag seemed heavier, but he had other stuff to think about. “Judge Peterson wants us to stop by this evening to sign papers.”

“I’ll be there. Have a good day, Will.”

Will was thankful that Hannibal didn’t see him off at the door. He got to the Academy with fifteen minutes to spare, grabbed a container of coffee, and hurried to the lecture hall. 

“Good morning, hope you’re all awake,” Will said, placing his bag on the desk and hooking up his laptop. “We’ve a lot to cover this morning…” He looked up and realized they were all staring at him. “Um...something wrong?”

“Woah, Mr. Graham! You got a hot lunch date?”

Will wondered which cadet had enough guts to ask the question. “Excuse me?”

One of the female cadets raised a hand. “You’re all dressed up. You look nice.”

Will glanced down at his clothes and compared them mentally with what he usually wore. No wonder they were surprised. “I lost a bet.”

Laughter, and then they settled down, ready to listen to him talk. Will turned toward the computer and brought up his presentation but turned back around when he heard the sound of a camera. “Did someone take a picture?”

Innocent faces stared back at him and no one answered.

“If a picture of me in these clothes shows up on social media, I will track down the responsible party, and you guys know I can do it, too. Think about that. Let’s get to work.”

Will gave his lecture and then at the end of class there were the usual students with questions. More than a few of the usual number clustered around him, chatting and trying to stare unobtrusively. Will wished he could take some kind of revenge against Hannibal for this, but he was sure that Hannibal would be able to anticipate anything he thought of.

He went to his office to pick up some files and dropped into his chair for a few minutes while he decided where to go for lunch. He attempted to slip the files into his bag but found something in the way. It was an insulated bag. Intrigued, he pulled it out and opened it. Inside was a small thermos and one of Hannibal’s fancy Tupperware containers and a note.

Dear Will, he read. Knowing how busy you get with your classes, you’ll neglect any thought of lunch until it is time. Please do not go to a fast food establishment; that’s the last thing you need right now. Please enjoy this meal instead. I’ve spoken to Judge Peterson and he’s agreed that we can stop by at 5:30 this evening to sign paperwork. You and I can have supper together afterward if that is agreeable to you. Until this evening,

Hannibal Lecter

When had Hannibal slipped this into his bag? Deciding to think about it later, Will opened the thermos and the container and felt his mouth water once the aromas hit him. In the thermos was mushroom soup, still steaming hot, and in the container...He had to stop and look at what he had before he realized just what he was looking at. There were vegetables cut into star and moon shapes, two hard-boiled eggs, one made to look like a mouse and another made to look like a hedgehog, a few small pieces of fried chicken, roast pumpkin cut to look like tulips and coated with honey, apple slices cut to resemble rabbits...every single thing in there was a work of art. 

Will pulled out his phone and dialled. Hannibal picked up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“How long did it take you to make this?”

“Not long. Do you like it?”

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Will admitted. “Just...what is it?”

“Have you heard of a Japanese bento? It’s a boxed meal where the presentation is as important as the ingredients. I did think a more elegant presentation might lift your spirits, but then the thought that you might enjoy something whimsical more occurred to me. With everything you’ve had on your mind lately, I was hoping that it would cheer you up.”

Will lifted a tiny octopus from the box and grinned when he saw that it was actually a cocktail wiener. “It definitely has. Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome, Will. I’ll see you this evening.”

Will hung up then and contemplated the box. Hannibal Lecter could do “cute.” Who would have thought it?

Beverly passed by his desk and then froze in her tracks to stare at his lunch. “Woah. Who are your little friends, Will, and where did they come from?” Then she noticed his clothes. “WOAH. Whose closet did you raid?”

Will fought down a chuckle. “The clothes are an early birthday present from Hannibal. I stayed at his place last night and I think he was just waiting to get his hands on my stuff so he could replace it all with something that didn’t offend his fashion sense. As for the food, Hannibal packed my lunch for me this morning and he’s trying to cheer me up.”

“You’re smiling, I’d say it’s worked,” she said, dropping into the chair next to his desk. “All of it’s so cute! As for the clothes, you look good.”

“So I’ve heard. I never knew he could do cute,” Will admitted. He took a bite of the octopus. “It’s pretty good. Want some?”

“Nah, you enjoy it,” she told him, waving a hand. “So, how’d things go with that judge?”

Immediately everything rushed back to him. “Ah...I’d almost forgotten. I have to have a guardian.”

Beverly sat up, concern in her eyes. “Will it be Jack?”

Will shook his head. “No, the judge didn’t think it would be a good idea. Surprisingly enough, Hannibal offered. I’d stay the week at his place and I’d be able to go to my place on the weekends, so that’s good. We’re going to sign the papers tonight. I feel a bit like I’m signing my life away.”

Beverly shrugged. “It’s just going to make you depressed if you think about it like that. Why not think of it as gaining a sort-of family? You know, somebody who’s going to watch your back and all that?”

“I’ll give that a try,” Will sighed. He took a slice of the pumpkin and smiled. “Mmm. That’s kind of like pumpkin pie, only sticky.”

Beverly snorted then, laughing, and soon enough she and Will were both laughing.

That was the high point of the day. There were the usual shocked reactions to his clothes from his students for the rest of the day and he tried not to mind when a lot of them did double-takes. Around three Beverly forwarded him a picture that someone had posted that promptly made him want to find a rock to crawl under so he could die from embarrassment in peace. It had been a photo of him in the hallway and it was captioned “Teacher DRESSED UP today! HAWT!!!” Apparently Jack had been forwarded the same picture because he came to visit Will shortly after that.

“Wow,” Jack said, getting a look at him. “What the hell?”

“Early birthday gift,” Will said quickly before Jack could jump to conclusions. 

“So Hannibal’s picking out your clothes now?”

Will paused and reached for his patience. “Like I said, early birthday gift. It was what was clean this morning, so this is what I wore.”

“Uh-huh. Did Judge Peterson settle on a guardian for you since he said that I wouldn’t be appropriate?”

Oh, the landmines in that question. “Um, well, someone volunteered.”

It didn’t take Jack long. “Hannibal?”

“Yep. I’d be able to stay on my own during the weekends at my place, and during the week I’d be at Hannibal’s. It’s the best of a bad situation, really, so I agreed. We’re signing the paperwork tonight.”

“Should I say congratulations?” Jack asked, still sounding a bit miffed. 

“Not really. Not much is going to change, Jack. I’ll still be working…”

“Were you aware that Hannibal could tell me to piss off if he thought I was being detrimental to your welfare?”

Will blinked. “Um...no. Why would he do that?”

Jack gave him the patented Jack Crawford now-you’re-being-stupid glare. “He’s protective of you, Will. For some reason. That, and the National Gifted law gives him the right to step in if he thought you were doing something that was bad for you. Just make sure he doesn’t ground you if we need you to visit a crime scene.”

Will gave him a blank look. “Ha, ha, Jack. I’ve read that law myself and I don’t see anything in it about a guardian being able to ground a ward.”

“Do you remember reading about a guardian preserving a ward’s welfare?”

“Yeah.”

“There you are.” 

Will thought about it. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem, Jack. He knows I have a job to do.”

Jack gave him a look as if he didn’t believe him, but he let the matter rest and Will was able to escape into his work. He finished at four, headed to his car, and met Hannibal yet again at Judge Peterson’s chambers. There they read the papers over, Hannibal and Will both asked questions, and then Hannibal signed. Feeling as if he were signing his life away, despite trying to think of the situation in the way that Beverly had suggested, Will signed his name.

“Thank you, gentlemen,” Judge Peterson said, adding his signature in the appropriate places before slipping the papers into a portfolio. “I’ll see that these are submitted and that you are assigned a caseworker, but I doubt that there will be any problems.”

“I should hope not,” Hannibal said. “I’m sure Will will be watching after me just as much as I’m watching after him. Together we’ll muddle through.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Judge Peterson told them. “This should be all we need, gentlemen. You should hear from your caseworker within a few weeks. Good luck to you both.”

They shook hands a final time and Will and Hannibal headed outside. 

“I hope you’re hungry.”

“I’ve eaten more in the past two days than I have for a while,” Will admitted. “Oddly enough, I am hungry.”

“Good,” Hannibal said. “I’ve made arrangements for your pack for this evening, so we can have dinner at my home. Let’s go.”

“For some reason, you’re like a little kid who’s eager to show something off,” Will said thoughtfully as they headed to their cars. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing at all,” Hannibal said innocently.

They drove to Hannibal’s home and Will parked his car next to the Bentley again. “I hope Alana wasn’t angry on us presuming on her good nature again.”

“Not in the slightest,” Hannibal assured him as he unlocked the door and they headed inside.

A savory smell filled the house and Will felt his mouth water. “Mmm. That smells wonderful.”

Hannibal headed into the kitchen and checked the timer. “Needs another fifteen minutes.” He turned around and smiled at Will. “I have a surprise for you.”

Foreboding hit. “Is it more clothes?”

Hannibal actually threw his head back and laughed. “No, nothing like that. Come with me and I’ll show you.”

He led Will away from the kitchen, down a hallway, around a corner, and he opened the door. A wall of fur and doggy happiness charged out of the room to surround Will, who quickly dropped down to the floor to pet and greet his pack. “What…? How…? When did you…?”

“I told you I made arrangements for them,” Hannibal said happily. “Take a look at your sitting room, Will.”

Still surprised, Will entered the room and found himself grinning. If he’d had an infinite budget to work with, he would have decorated such a room in just this way. The walls had been split into two, with sandy wooden paneling on the bottom half and blue wallpaper on the top half. Shelves held books on fishing and boating and mechanics, as well as maritime and beach and water themed knick-knacks. Similar prints and shadow boxes hung on the walls, and all of the furniture was a comforting plaid in a complementary color scheme. It shouldn’t have worked, but it did. There was an entertainment center in a wood cabinet a few shades darker than the panelling, but an an old-fashioned wooden radio held pride of place on the mantelpiece. Dog beds and cushions littered the beige carpet, and Hannibal had even found the dogs some toys and chews. “Hannibal...this is wonderful!”

Hannibal was in the doorway, leaning against the door frame. “I’m glad you like it, Will. I thought I would surprise you with this and your pack, so you can already have a place of your own here. Your bedroom, however, will be yours to arrange as you see fit.”

Will looked around. “I don’t see how I could do a better job than this,” he confessed. “I think you missed your true calling. You should have been an interior decorator.”

Hannibal gave another smile. “Not a chef?”

Will looked around and shook his head, scratching Winston behind the ears. “Nah. You’d have the best clients in Baltimore society.”

Will played with his dogs, located the bowls and food that Hannibal had gotten for them, and made sure his dogs had their supper. By the time they were done hoovering up the food in their bowls, the meal Hannibal had prepared was finished, and Will washed his hands and took his place at the table.

“Jagerschnitzel with spatzle and green beans,” Hannibal said, carrying two laden plates to the table. “Good, comforting food after a long day.”

Hannibal served them both and then fetched a gravy boat full of the mushroom gravy for the schnitzel, which, when Will tried it, was very good on the spaetzle. He finished everything on his plate and leaned back in his chair with his wine, replete. “That was marvelous. I think I’ll gain a lot of weight if you keep cooking like this.”

“You are underweight, so I don’t think you need to worry anytime soon. Do you have any room for dessert?”

Will sat up. He should have realized that Hannibal would have prepared a dessert as well. “And what’s for dessert?”

“Apple strudel. Would you care for some?”

“When have I ever said no to your cooking?”

Hannibal smiled and fetched dessert before topping off Will’s wine glass. 

“So, how did the dogs do in your Bentley?”

“They behaved themselves very nicely,” Hannibal said evenly. “Although a few of them kept pawing at the window.”

Will chuckled and sipped at his wine. “They probably wanted you to roll down the window so they could put their heads out. A lot of dogs love to do that.”

“Sounds a bit dangerous.”

Will shrugged. “Dogs. They don’t care about human concerns like possible danger, they just know what they love.”

“Living in the moment,” Hannibal said thoughtfully. “We should all be so lucky.”

Will helped Hannibal clean up after dinner and Hannibal again showed him to the guest room. “I hope you’ll forgive another presumption on my part, but I took the liberty of packing a bag for you for the next few days. You won’t have to drive back to Wolf Trap until the weekend.”

Will had been about to say that he couldn’t stay over since had to head home, but really, that made things a bit easier for him. “Actually, that was a good idea. I won’t have to drive back home just to change clothes.”

Hannibal looked pleased at the compliment. “Good, I’m glad. Are you up for a game of chess or would you like to turn in for the night?”

“Maybe this time I’ll beat you.”

“A bold statement to make, Will. More wine, or whiskey?”


	4. Chapter 4

Will slept deeply and well that night until a dream made him jerk awake.  He tried to settle back down, but in the end he gave up and headed downstairs to his sitting room.  Briefly he debated curling up on the couch to sleep, but he decided to take his pack upstairs instead.  He was sure that Hannibal wouldn’t mind too much.

 

Once they were all upstairs Will settled into his bed and then his pack joined him.  It took them a few minutes to choose where they were sleeping and Winston curled up by his head.  With the home-y smell of dog around him and the sound of their breathing, Will felt himself relax.

 

Knocking on the door brought him out of a dream about fly-fishing with dog bones.  “Will? It’s almost time for breakfast.”

 

“I’m up,” Will managed to mumble as he fought to sit up.  He was warm and oh, so comfortable.

 

More knocking.  “Will? Are you up?”

 

“Mm-hmm.”

 

More knocking.  “Will?”

 

“I’m up.”

 

Winston yawned and re-positioned his head so that it lay on Will’s chest.

 

Suddenly, Will heard the tattoo of doggy tails against the comforter.  

 

“I thought I smelled canine.”

 

Will’s eyes opened and suddenly, he was awake.  “Hannibal?”

 

Hannibal was standing there, dressed for the day, but in his shirtsleeves and his apron.  “Good morning, Will.”

 

“Morning.”

 

Poptart vaulted off the bed and scooted toward Hannibal, stopping to sit up on her haunches to beg.  Hannibal regarded her with a raised eyebrow. “I’m sorry, madam, but I’ve nothing for you today.” He turned his attention back to Will.  “I can see what you mean about your dogs being soporific. I’ve never seen you so hard to rouse before. When you didn’t get up after the last time I knocked on your door, I decided to check on you.  You did have a lot of wine last night. Feeling all right?”

 

“Just fine,” Will assured him.  “What time is it?”

 

“A quarter to eight.  Best hurry. Breakfast is almost ready.”

 

When he heard the time Will catapulted himself out of bed and into the bathroom.  He was in the shower for two minutes before he realized he hadn’t let the dogs out.  He peeked out of the bathroom and found them all gone, so Hannibal must have let them out.  Thank goodness. He focused on getting ready for the morning, located his bag, and dressed. He threw the comforter over the bed and rushed downstairs.  “Coffee?” he said hopefully.

 

“There is a cup of coffee by your plate,” Hannibal told him, coming into the kitchen from the direction of Will’s sitting room.  “Your dogs are settled in your sitting room.”

 

Will grabbed the coffee and sipped at it.  “Breakfast smells incredible, and I’m sorry, but if I’m going to get to work on time, I have to leave like now.”

 

“If I drive you there in my Bentley, you’ll arrive on time, even if you take the time to sit down and eat, which you’re going to.  You’ll have half an hour to eat, which should be ample time.”

 

“I can drive myself,” Will protested.

 

“I should think you owe me the courtesy of at least tasting your breakfast, considering the fact that I made it for you, woke you up in time for your obligations this morning, and saw to your pack while you were running about like a drunken chicken.  I can tell you, Will, that I am out of sorts with you this morning, and you won’t be leaving until you’ve eaten. Now is not the time to presume on my good nature too much.”

 

The look on Hannibal’s face actually gave Will pause.  Oh, Hannibal could sound like the most affable person all the time, but to be sure if he was really feeling affable, you had to look carefully at his eyes.  The fact that he’d stated that he was ‘out of sorts’ and that he’d reminded Will that he was owed a courtesy was telling, despite sounding like his suave, bonhomie self.  Even more telling was Hannibal’s remark about presumption.

 

In short, Hannibal was  _ pissed _ .

 

Will put down his coffee cup.  “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have let the fact that I was stressed stop me from thinking.”

 

Hannibal merely gave him a nod.  “Your breakfast should still be hot.”

 

Even half-asleep and caffeine-deprived, Will could take a hint.  He’d seen Hannibal angry with people before, and sometimes Hannibal had been annoyed with him, but he’d never seen Hannibal  _ angry _ with him before.  It was a little disconcerting; he hadn’t known that he could make Hannibal so angry with  _ him _ .  Plenty of people had remarked on Hannibal’s soft spot for Will.  

 

Trying not to think about it, Will put his napkin in his lap and dug into his breakfast.  He could tell it was some kind of eggs, maybe some sausage, but what else was there? “What am I enjoying here?”

 

“Sausage and spinach quiche, with starfruit, pineapple, and mango relish on a blueberry scone for something sweet.”

 

Will made quick work of the food, but every now and then he had to stop and just savor what he was eating.  How could any one person have so much talent in so many things? He wasn’t only a doctor, but he was also a talented chef, artist, musician…Hmmmm.  “Hannibal, something just occurred to me.”

 

Hannibal looked up from his plate.  “Hmmm?”

 

“With all your talent and skills in so many things, wouldn’t you qualify as Gifted?”

 

Hannibal tilted his head to the side and considered Will’s question.  “You’re right, Will. I was tested, and the results were positive, but our situations differ in that no one has ever been concerned about my capacity for self-care.  The results of my genetic test were not as pronounced as yours, I believe, so there is that in my favor.”

 

“I’d think it would be the other way around.  All I’m good at aside from profiling is fixing boat motors and collecting strays.  You’re good at...well, a lot more than me.”

 

“I feel you give yourself too little credit,” Hannibal argued.  “Almost finished?”

 

Will finished his breakfast, cleared his place, and put his dishes in the dishwasher.  Hannibal handed him the same insulated bag from yesterday and pulled on his jacket. “Let’s go.”

 

“Are you going to fix me lunch every day?” Will asked as they got into the Bentley.  “You don’t really have to, you know.” 

 

“A sure way to get me to forgive you for the trail of canine hair throughout my home and the little gift one of your dogs left for me in the hallway  _ after _ I’d let them out is to let me make your lunches this week and for you to enjoy them without a fuss.”

 

Will stared at Hannibal as they pulled out of the driveway.  No wonder he was pissed! “Which one was that?”

 

“The little white yappy one.”

 

“None of my dogs are yappy.”  Will saw Hannibal glance at him and he wondered if he should abandon ship out of the Bentley and run for his life.  “Um...I’m very sorry. Really, I can’t say how sorry I am. None of them have ever done that before.”

 

Hannibal glanced again at Will, and then he surprised the ever-living life out of Will by chuckling.  “Do you know how frightened you look when you’re nervous about something your dogs have done? You look like a mouse facing a lion.”

 

“This is the first time you’ve been really angry with me,” Will admitted.  “I feel just like that.”

 

“It’s all right, Will, no need to fret.  You’re forgiven. The little white yappy one will have to make it up to me later in some way, but don’t worry.  I’m sure she and I will figure out how to get along.”

 

Hannibal had been right that his Bentley was fast enough to get Will to Quantico in plenty of time for his first class.  What Will hadn’t realized that the Bentley was a very expensive and flashy car that people tended to notice, and a few of the people who noticed the car were some of his students.

 

“I’ll pick you up at half-past four,” Hannibal told him as Will got out of the car.  “Have a good day, Will.”

 

“Thanks, you too,” Will said, wishing that the stairs in the front of the building had been a bit less-populated.  One young cadet was staring at the Bentley with something like lust in his eyes. Will hurried up the stairs, rushed to his office, and stowed his lunch bag in his desk before heading to the lecture hall.  He really hoped that no one was feeling creative in the cadet rumor mill today.

 

Vain hope.  A lot of the cadets were clustered together, whispering, when he got there.  “Okay, people. Let’s get started.”

 

Things were peaceful until lunch, when Zeller showed up just as Will was taking his lunch out of his desk.  “Will, did you really arrive in a limo this morning?”

 

Will did a double-take.  “What?”

 

“I heard a couple of cadets talking about it.”

 

“No, Hannibal dropped me off this morning.  I overslept, and the Bentley was faster.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Something in Zeller’s voice made him nervous.  “I think there’s something you’re not telling me.  Is there something I should know?”

 

Zeller’s eyebrows rose and he looked at his watch.  “Ah, I should get back to work.”

 

“It’s lunch,” Will reminded him.  “Come on, Zeller!”

 

Zeller looked uncomfortable.  “I’m just the unwilling messenger, okay?  I heard some of the cadets saying that you must have a rich new boyfriend or something.”

 

Oh, for that rock.  A nice, big rock with a very deep hole under it where he could die in peace.  “Oh, Lord. No, it’s just Hannibal. You remember I had to see a judge about guardianship?  Hannibal volunteered so I wouldn’t end up with somebody I didn’t know.”

 

Zeller blinked.  “Oh. That was nice of him.”

 

“Yeah, so he really doesn’t deserve rumors flying around about him.  Do you think there’s any way to nip this rumor mill in the bud?”

 

“Let me think about it; maybe something will come to me.  I’ll text you if I think of something, and if you think of something, text me.”  With that, Zeller rushed off.

 

Will sighed and leaned back in his chair.  He really didn’t need or want rumors flying around about him and Hannibal, but he was sure that it had really been only a matter of time before it happened.  Still, he reflected, it could be a lot worse. Freddie Lounds could always turn up and start nosing around. Will unpacked his lunch and stared at it. It looked...well, beautiful.  It looked as if he had a miniature flower garden in his lunch container. Smiling, he texted Hannibal.  _ To reiterate, you have a lot of talent.  My lunch is a work of art. _

 

Hannibal replied after a minute.   _ You can take a picture if you like; I won’t be offended.  Unless you neglect to eat it, that is. _

 

Will fought down a chuckle.   _ That won’t be a problem.  It’s been a busy morning and I’m hungry.  See you tonight. _

 

_ Until tonight. _

 

Will dug into his food then, often stopping to savor what he was eating.  He had no idea what he was eating, but all of it was fabulous. Since the color was so cheerful, Will had left eating the sun for last and was surprised to find that it was a little cake, cunningly iced to look like the sun.  Will grinned and nibbled at the cake, determined to make it last so he could enjoy the flavor. He could taste oranges, but he wasn’t sure what else had been used to flavor it.

 

After lunch, Will took a walk outside before his next class, stopping to sit on a bench for just a moment and be.  He didn’t know why, but despite everything, he felt relaxed and easy. He went back inside in plenty of time for his next class and the rest of the day went off without a hitch.  Zeller hadn’t texted him, but Will was sure that he was thinking hard. Perhaps, just perhaps, he should let Hannibal know and get his thoughts on the situation.

 

Hannibal was there at half-past four, just as he’d said, to pick Will up.  Will got into the car, fastened his belt, and as they pulled away Will said, “Did you know I have a new hot rich boyfriend who drops me off in a limo?”

 

The car swerved and Hannibal glanced at him in alarm before looking back at the road.  “Will, are you joking?”

 

“Yeah, but that’s the current rumor going around the cadets today,” Will admitted.  “Some of them saw you drop me off and they jumped to conclusions.”

 

“Ahh, the idiocy of youth.”

 

“Something like that,” Will agreed.  “Zeller and I are trying to find a way to shut the rumor mill down.”

 

“A direct approach might be beneficial,” Hannibal offered.  “Be as matter-of-fact as you can and they’ll start to question their assumptions.  Any vehement denials on your part would only fan the rumor flames higher. Did you enjoy your lunch?”

 

“I did, yes, especially the cake.  It was an orange cake, wasn’t it?”

 

“Orange and cinnamon.”

 

“Ah, that was the flavor I couldn’t pin down.  It was very good.”

 

“Did you finish all of it?  I know I packed you a large lunch and I was wondering if it was too much.”

 

“No, I finished everything.  The cake was so good that as soon as I finished it I wanted more.”

 

Hannibal glanced at him again.  “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

 

They got to Hannibal’s home and Will thanked Hannibal for the ride and headed inside to let the dogs out.  It was his first time seeing what Hannibal had arranged for the dogs outside and he had to admit that a dog run had been a good idea.  It gave the dogs their own space and would minimize any damage his pack could do on Hannibal’s garden. Will cleaned up after the dogs, locked the dog run, and they all headed back inside the sitting room so Will could feed and water them.  

 

“How is your pack this evening?” Hannibal asked as Will took his seat at the table.

 

“Settling in,” Will told him.  “The dog run was a good idea.”

 

“I’m glad you approve.  I’ve let my cleaning service know that we now have a pack of puppies in the house, so they will make sure to accommodate them when possible.  How was the little yappy one?”

 

“None of my dogs are yappy.”

 

“You’ve clearly never been surrounded by them when you’re holding some sausage in your hand,” Hannibal stated.  “One of them was quite...vocal.”

 

“Why were you feeding my dogs sausage?”

 

“A treat.”

 

“Ah.”

 

After dinner Will helped Hannibal clean up and then he headed to his sitting room to spend some time with his dogs.  He was in the middle of a tug of war with Winston when Hannibal knocked on the doorframe. “May I join you?”

 

“Sure, if you don’t mind dog hair,” Will warned him.

 

“I’m sure I can stand it,” Hannibal said, taking a seat in the arm chair.  A second later, he had his lap full of Poptart, who had taken a running leap and landed squarely on his knees.  “Hello, yappy one.”

 

“Poptart, you owe Hannibal an apology for what you did this morning.”

 

Hannibal looked amused, but at the same time, he was trying to not be amused.  A second later Poptart ambushed him with a lick and Will had a hard time not laughing out loud at Hannibal’s face.  For a moment Hannibal looked as if he wanted to rush off and wash his face, but then he looked at Poptart and said, “All right, you’re forgiven.”

 

Will decided never to mention to Hannibal that he looked quite at home with a dog on his lap and a book in his hand.  He wished he dared take a picture.

 

The next few days were quiet while he and Hannibal learned how to live together.  Will learned that while Hannibal had said he didn’t mind if Will tried cooking, it was clear that he really preferred to cook so he could be sure that Will could be eating “good” food.  Will wondered what Hannibal’s reaction would be if he made jambalaya or etoufee or even chili. He’d probably struggle to speak, eat it to be polite, and sigh as they were washing the dishes.  Will made sure to set the alarm each night so Hannibal didn’t have to wake him up and so he could see to his dogs himself in the morning. After discussing the issue and pointing out to Hannibal that he really did sleep better with his dogs in his bed, Hannibal agreed not to mind too much about the puppies and where they slept.  His pack soon accepted Hannibal as one of their own and Poptart seemed to “adopt” Hannibal as a pack-brother, looking around to see where he was and cozying up to him if he were nearby. In the evenings, Will spent time in his sitting room with his dogs, or he and Hannibal spent time together in the same place, if Hannibal wasn’t busy in his study, either writing up patient notes or writing a psychiatric article.  Sometimes Will could hear Hannibal playing the harpsichord or the piano, but often, he would end up in Will’s sitting room with Will and his pack, all of them content in each other’s company.

 

Will’s life at work hadn’t really changed much.  A few of his students had worked up the courage to ask why they hadn’t seen the Bentley recently, and a few of the young women asked if he’d lost any more recent bets.  Will knew they wanted to see him dressed up again, so he was happy enough to tell them that his luck was holding. Fortunately, there were no more rumors about Will’s ‘boyfriend,’ and Zeller was just as relieved as Will was.  Hannibal had continued to pack Will’s lunches for him and soon Will found himself looking forward to seeing what Hannibal packed for him each day. Some days he had cute little bentos, especially if his spirits had been low, and other days he had meals fit for a five-star restaurant.  Hannibal packed him all kinds of soups and stews, salads, wraps and paninis, casseroles, and bite-size pot pies and quiches, among other things. A few of his coworkers, eating leftovers or sandwiches, looked a little jealous sometimes. That didn’t make him inclined to share, though.

 

It was breakfast on Friday when Hannibal brought up the subject of his weekend at home.  “Did you want to drive down this evening or in the morning?”

 

“This evening, if that’s okay,” Will said, tugging at his tie.  He’d worn everything that Hannibal had packed for him and he was left with the suit of clothes that had drawn so much attention earlier in the week.  He couldn’t help but think that Hannibal had planned it that way. “I can stop by tonight and pick up the dogs and a few other things, and then I can drive back Sunday night.”

 

Hannibal nodded.  “All right. Just remember to eat while you’re at home, all right?  Don’t get so involved in something that you forget.”

 

Will looked at him.  “I don’t do that.”

 

Hannibal gave him an amused look.  “This is an argument you’re going to lose, Will.”

 

Will gave up.

 

He got through work with no problem, although some of his students hooted and a few of them whistled when he walked in.  “Hey, Mr. Graham, did you lose another bet?”

 

Will wanted to crawl under the desk.  “Um...yes. Let’s get started.”

 

Will got through the rest of the day and drove to Hannibal’s place, where Will was greeted with a full meal, hot and ready for him.  “How are you going to get through a whole weekend without feeding me?”

 

“I will do my best,” Hannibal sighed.  

 

Hannibal disappeared briefly while Will herded his pack together and out to the car, and then Hannibal saw him off at the door.  “Have a safe trip, Will, and I’ll see you Sunday night.”

 

“Thanks, Hannibal.  Have a good weekend.”

 

His dogs were ecstatic at being home again and they ran around the yard, happily getting reacquainted with their territory and marking things.  Will headed inside the house, turned on lamps, and started a load of laundry. Once it was going he headed back outside to bring in his bags, but to his surprise, there was an item in his car that he didn’t remember packing.  It was a large insulated bag. Intrigued, he carried his bags inside, fetched the insulated bag, and opened it. Inside were four casserole dishes, clearly labeled  _ Lunch _ or  _ Dinner _ .  On the top of the first dish was a folded letter.

 

_ Dear Will, _ he read.   _ You’ve been through a great deal in a short amount of time, so I thought I would remove one worry from your plate by filling your plate at mealtimes.  I hope you enjoy these meals. Please be sure to bring the empty dishes back with you when you return on Sunday. Until then, enjoy yourself. _

 

_ Hannibal _

 

Will shook his head and grinned.  He doubted that he’d ever be eating his own cooking again while Hannibal was his guardian.  He packed the dishes into the fridge and found himself looking forward to what he’d be eating the following day.  

 

He and his dogs turned in for the night once the clothes were in the dryer and they spent Saturday quietly.  Will pulled on his waders and went fishing without intending to catch anything, just so he could enjoy the quiet and the sound of the water.  Later, he and his dogs went for a long walk through the woods and returned home tired and muddy. He warmed up the first of Hannibal’s dishes and ate it, and despite not knowing what was in the dish, he enjoyed every bit.  He spent the afternoon tying some flies and working on a motor, and after dinner he read for a while before hitting the sack.

 

It was an hour or two after lunch on Sunday when his phone rang.  He glanced at the screen and winced when he saw it was Jack. This could not be good.  Gathering his mental defenses around him, he picked up the call. “Hello?”

 

_ “Will, it’s me.  I’ve got some news for you.” _

 

Usually when it was a case, Jack would lead with that.  “News?”

 

_ “Have you seen the latest on Tattlecrime.com?” _

 

“No.  I don’t make a habit of reading it.  Makes me pissed.”

 

_ “Well, you’re in it.  You and Hannibal.” _

 

“Excuse me?”

 

_ “There’s an article about you and Hannibal on Tattlecrime.  About the guardianship. If I were you, I’d check on it. Rumors are going to be flying.” _

 

“Okay.”

 

Will hung up then and brought up Tattlecrime.com.  Sure enough, the headline made him wince, and then it made him swear.  Freddie Lounds had outdone herself.


	5. Chapter 5

Will slept deeply and well that night until a dream made him jerk awake. He tried to settle back down, but in the end he gave up and headed downstairs to his sitting room. Briefly he debated curling up on the couch to sleep, but he decided to take his pack upstairs instead. He was sure that Hannibal wouldn’t mind too much. Once they were all upstairs Will settled into his bed and then his pack joined him. It took them a few minutes to choose where they were sleeping and Winston curled up by his head. With the home-y smell of dog around him and the sound of their breathing, Will felt himself relax. Knocking on the door brought him out of a dream about fly-fishing with dog bones. “Will? It’s almost time for breakfast.” “I’m up,” Will managed to mumble as he fought to sit up. He was warm and oh, so comfortable. More knocking. “Will? Are you up?” “Mm-hmm.” More knocking. “Will?” “I’m up.” Winston yawned and re-positioned his head so that it lay on Will’s chest. Suddenly, Will heard the tattoo of doggy tails against the comforter. “I thought I smelled canine.” Will’s eyes opened and suddenly, he was awake. “Hannibal?” Hannibal was standing there, dressed for the day, but in his shirtsleeves and his apron. “Good morning, Will.” “Morning.” Poptart vaulted off the bed and scooted toward Hannibal, stopping to sit up on her haunches to beg. Hannibal regarded her with a raised eyebrow. “I’m sorry, madam, but I’ve nothing for you today.” He turned his attention back to Will. “I can see what you mean about your dogs being soporific. I’ve never seen you so hard to rouse before. When you didn’t get up after the last time I knocked on your door, I decided to check on you. You did have a lot of wine last night. Feeling all right?” “Just fine,” Will assured him. “What time is it?” “A quarter to eight. Best hurry. Breakfast is almost ready.” When he heard the time Will catapulted himself out of bed and into the bathroom. He was in the shower for two minutes before he realized he hadn’t let the dogs out. He peeked out of the bathroom and found them all gone, so Hannibal must have let them out. Thank goodness. He focused on getting ready for the morning, located his bag, and dressed. He threw the comforter over the bed and rushed downstairs. “Coffee?” he said hopefully. “There is a cup of coffee by your plate,” Hannibal told him, coming into the kitchen from the direction of Will’s sitting room. “Your dogs are settled in your sitting room.” Will grabbed the coffee and sipped at it. “Breakfast smells incredible, and I’m sorry, but if I’m going to get to work on time, I have to leave like now.” “If I drive you there in my Bentley, you’ll arrive on time, even if you take the time to sit down and eat, which you’re going to. You’ll have half an hour to eat, which should be ample time.” “I can drive myself,” Will protested. “I should think you owe me the courtesy of at least tasting your breakfast, considering the fact that I made it for you, woke you up in time for your obligations this morning, and saw to your pack while you were running about like a drunken chicken. I can tell you, Will, that I am out of sorts with you this morning, and you won’t be leaving until you’ve eaten. Now is not the time to presume on my good nature too much.” The look on Hannibal’s face actually gave Will pause. Oh, Hannibal could sound like the most affable person all the time, but to be sure if he was really feeling affable, you had to look carefully at his eyes. The fact that he’d stated that he was ‘out of sorts’ and that he’d reminded Will that he was owed a courtesy was telling, despite sounding like his suave, bonhomie self. Even more telling was Hannibal’s remark about presumption. In short, Hannibal was pissed. Will put down his coffee cup. “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have let the fact that I was stressed stop me from thinking.” Hannibal merely gave him a nod. “Your breakfast should still be hot.” Even half-asleep and caffeine-deprived, Will could take a hint. He’d seen Hannibal angry with people before, and sometimes Hannibal had been annoyed with him, but he’d never seen Hannibal angry with him before. It was a little disconcerting; he hadn’t known that he could make Hannibal so angry with him. Plenty of people had remarked on Hannibal’s soft spot for Will. Trying not to think about it, Will put his napkin in his lap and dug into his breakfast. He could tell it was some kind of eggs, maybe some sausage, but what else was there? “What am I enjoying here?” “Sausage and spinach quiche, with starfruit, pineapple, and mango relish on a blueberry scone for something sweet.” Will made quick work of the food, but every now and then he had to stop and just savor what he was eating. How could any one person have so much talent in so many things? He wasn’t only a doctor, but he was also a talented chef, artist, musician…Hmmmm. “Hannibal, something just occurred to me.” Hannibal looked up from his plate. “Hmmm?” “With all your talent and skills in so many things, wouldn’t you qualify as Gifted?” Hannibal tilted his head to the side and considered Will’s question. “You’re right, Will. I was tested, and the results were positive, but our situations differ in that no one has ever been concerned about my capacity for self-care. The results of my genetic test were not as pronounced as yours, I believe, so there is that in my favor.” “I’d think it would be the other way around. All I’m good at aside from profiling is fixing boat motors and collecting strays. You’re good at...well, a lot more than me.” “I feel you give yourself too little credit,” Hannibal argued. “Almost finished?” Will finished his breakfast, cleared his place, and put his dishes in the dishwasher. Hannibal handed him the same insulated bag from yesterday and pulled on his jacket. “Let’s go.” “Are you going to fix me lunch every day?” Will asked as they got into the Bentley. “You don’t really have to, you know.” “A sure way to get me to forgive you for the trail of canine hair throughout my home and the little gift one of your dogs left for me in the hallway after I’d let them out is to let me make your lunches this week and for you to enjoy them without a fuss.” Will stared at Hannibal as they pulled out of the driveway. No wonder he was pissed! “Which one was that?” “The little white yappy one.” “None of my dogs are yappy.” Will saw Hannibal glance at him and he wondered if he should abandon ship out of the Bentley and run for his life. “Um...I’m very sorry. Really, I can’t say how sorry I am. None of them have ever done that before.” Hannibal glanced again at Will, and then he surprised the ever-living life out of Will by chuckling. “Do you know how frightened you look when you’re nervous about something your dogs have done? You look like a mouse facing a lion.” “This is the first time you’ve been really angry with me,” Will admitted. “I feel just like that.” “It’s all right, Will, no need to fret. You’re forgiven. The little white yappy one will have to make it up to me later in some way, but don’t worry. I’m sure she and I will figure out how to get along.” Hannibal had been right that his Bentley was fast enough to get Will to Quantico in plenty of time for his first class. What Will hadn’t realized that the Bentley was a very expensive and flashy car that people tended to notice, and a few of the people who noticed the car were some of his students. “I’ll pick you up at half-past four,” Hannibal told him as Will got out of the car. “Have a good day, Will.” “Thanks, you too,” Will said, wishing that the stairs in the front of the building had been a bit less-populated. One young cadet was staring at the Bentley with something like lust in his eyes. Will hurried up the stairs, rushed to his office, and stowed his lunch bag in his desk before heading to the lecture hall. He really hoped that no one was feeling creative in the cadet rumor mill today. Vain hope. A lot of the cadets were clustered together, whispering, when he got there. “Okay, people. Let’s get started.” Things were peaceful until lunch, when Zeller showed up just as Will was taking his lunch out of his desk. “Will, did you really arrive in a limo this morning?” Will did a double-take. “What?” “I heard a couple of cadets talking about it.” “No, Hannibal dropped me off this morning. I overslept, and the Bentley was faster.” “Oh.” Something in Zeller’s voice made him nervous. “I think there’s something you’re not telling me. Is there something I should know?” Zeller’s eyebrows rose and he looked at his watch. “Ah, I should get back to work.” “It’s lunch,” Will reminded him. “Come on, Zeller!” Zeller looked uncomfortable. “I’m just the unwilling messenger, okay? I heard some of the cadets saying that you must have a rich new boyfriend or something.” Oh, for that rock. A nice, big rock with a very deep hole under it where he could die in peace. “Oh, Lord. No, it’s just Hannibal. You remember I had to see a judge about guardianship? Hannibal volunteered so I wouldn’t end up with somebody I didn’t know.” Zeller blinked. “Oh. That was nice of him.” “Yeah, so he really doesn’t deserve rumors flying around about him. Do you think there’s any way to nip this rumor mill in the bud?” “Let me think about it; maybe something will come to me. I’ll text you if I think of something, and if you think of something, text me.” With that, Zeller rushed off. Will sighed and leaned back in his chair. He really didn’t need or want rumors flying around about him and Hannibal, but he was sure that it had really been only a matter of time before it happened. Still, he reflected, it could be a lot worse. Freddie Lounds could always turn up and start nosing around. Will unpacked his lunch and stared at it. It looked...well, beautiful. It looked as if he had a miniature flower garden in his lunch container. Smiling, he texted Hannibal. To reiterate, you have a lot of talent. My lunch is a work of art. Hannibal replied after a minute. You can take a picture if you like; I won’t be offended. Unless you neglect to eat it, that is. Will fought down a chuckle. That won’t be a problem. It’s been a busy morning and I’m hungry. See you tonight. Until tonight. Will dug into his food then, often stopping to savor what he was eating. He had no idea what he was eating, but all of it was fabulous. Since the color was so cheerful, Will had left eating the sun for last and was surprised to find that it was a little cake, cunningly iced to look like the sun. Will grinned and nibbled at the cake, determined to make it last so he could enjoy the flavor. He could taste oranges, but he wasn’t sure what else had been used to flavor it. After lunch, Will took a walk outside before his next class, stopping to sit on a bench for just a moment and be. He didn’t know why, but despite everything, he felt relaxed and easy. He went back inside in plenty of time for his next class and the rest of the day went off without a hitch. Zeller hadn’t texted him, but Will was sure that he was thinking hard. Perhaps, just perhaps, he should let Hannibal know and get his thoughts on the situation. Hannibal was there at half-past four, just as he’d said, to pick Will up. Will got into the car, fastened his belt, and as they pulled away Will said, “Did you know I have a new hot rich boyfriend who drops me off in a limo?” The car swerved and Hannibal glanced at him in alarm before looking back at the road. “Will, are you joking?” “Yeah, but that’s the current rumor going around the cadets today,” Will admitted. “Some of them saw you drop me off and they jumped to conclusions.” “Ahh, the idiocy of youth.” “Something like that,” Will agreed. “Zeller and I are trying to find a way to shut the rumor mill down.” “A direct approach might be beneficial,” Hannibal offered. “Be as matter-of-fact as you can and they’ll start to question their assumptions. Any vehement denials on your part would only fan the rumor flames higher. Did you enjoy your lunch?” “I did, yes, especially the cake. It was an orange cake, wasn’t it?” “Orange and cinnamon.” “Ah, that was the flavor I couldn’t pin down. It was very good.” “Did you finish all of it? I know I packed you a large lunch and I was wondering if it was too much.” “No, I finished everything. The cake was so good that as soon as I finished it I wanted more.” Hannibal glanced at him again. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.” They got to Hannibal’s home and Will thanked Hannibal for the ride and headed inside to let the dogs out. It was his first time seeing what Hannibal had arranged for the dogs outside and he had to admit that a dog run had been a good idea. It gave the dogs their own space and would minimize any damage his pack could do on Hannibal’s garden. Will cleaned up after the dogs, locked the dog run, and they all headed back inside the sitting room so Will could feed and water them. “How is your pack this evening?” Hannibal asked as Will took his seat at the table. “Settling in,” Will told him. “The dog run was a good idea.” “I’m glad you approve. I’ve let my cleaning service know that we now have a pack of puppies in the house, so they will make sure to accommodate them when possible. How was the little yappy one?” “None of my dogs are yappy.” “You’ve clearly never been surrounded by them when you’re holding some sausage in your hand,” Hannibal stated. “One of them was quite...vocal.” “Why were you feeding my dogs sausage?” “A treat.” “Ah.” After dinner Will helped Hannibal clean up and then he headed to his sitting room to spend some time with his dogs. He was in the middle of a tug of war with Winston when Hannibal knocked on the doorframe. “May I join you?” “Sure, if you don’t mind dog hair,” Will warned him. “I’m sure I can stand it,” Hannibal said, taking a seat in the arm chair. A second later, he had his lap full of Poptart, who had taken a running leap and landed squarely on his knees. “Hello, yappy one.” “Poptart, you owe Hannibal an apology for what you did this morning.” Hannibal looked amused, but at the same time, he was trying to not be amused. A second later Poptart ambushed him with a lick and Will had a hard time not laughing out loud at Hannibal’s face. For a moment Hannibal looked as if he wanted to rush off and wash his face, but then he looked at Poptart and said, “All right, you’re forgiven.” Will decided never to mention to Hannibal that he looked quite at home with a dog on his lap and a book in his hand. He wished he dared take a picture. The next few days were quiet while he and Hannibal learned how to live together. Will learned that while Hannibal had said he didn’t mind if Will tried cooking, it was clear that he really preferred to cook so he could be sure that Will could be eating “good” food. Will wondered what Hannibal’s reaction would be if he made jambalaya or etoufee or even chili. He’d probably struggle to speak, eat it to be polite, and sigh as they were washing the dishes. Will made sure to set the alarm each night so Hannibal didn’t have to wake him up and so he could see to his dogs himself in the morning. After discussing the issue and pointing out to Hannibal that he really did sleep better with his dogs in his bed, Hannibal agreed not to mind too much about the puppies and where they slept. His pack soon accepted Hannibal as one of their own and Poptart seemed to “adopt” Hannibal as a pack-brother, looking around to see where he was and cozying up to him if he were nearby. In the evenings, Will spent time in his sitting room with his dogs, or he and Hannibal spent time together in the same place, if Hannibal wasn’t busy in his study, either writing up patient notes or writing a psychiatric article. Sometimes Will could hear Hannibal playing the harpsichord or the piano, but often, he would end up in Will’s sitting room with Will and his pack, all of them content in each other’s company. Will’s life at work hadn’t really changed much. A few of his students had worked up the courage to ask why they hadn’t seen the Bentley recently, and a few of the young women asked if he’d lost any more recent bets. Will knew they wanted to see him dressed up again, so he was happy enough to tell them that his luck was holding. Fortunately, there were no more rumors about Will’s ‘boyfriend,’ and Zeller was just as relieved as Will was. Hannibal had continued to pack Will’s lunches for him and soon Will found himself looking forward to seeing what Hannibal packed for him each day. Some days he had cute little bentos, especially if his spirits had been low, and other days he had meals fit for a five-star restaurant. Hannibal packed him all kinds of soups and stews, salads, wraps and paninis, casseroles, and bite-size pot pies and quiches, among other things. A few of his coworkers, eating leftovers or sandwiches, looked a little jealous sometimes. That didn’t make him inclined to share, though. It was breakfast on Friday when Hannibal brought up the subject of his weekend at home. “Did you want to drive down this evening or in the morning?” “This evening, if that’s okay,” Will said, tugging at his tie. He’d worn everything that Hannibal had packed for him and he was left with the suit of clothes that had drawn so much attention earlier in the week. He couldn’t help but think that Hannibal had planned it that way. “I can stop by tonight and pick up the dogs and a few other things, and then I can drive back Sunday night.” Hannibal nodded. “All right. Just remember to eat while you’re at home, all right? Don’t get so involved in something that you forget.” Will looked at him. “I don’t do that.” Hannibal gave him an amused look. “This is an argument you’re going to lose, Will.” Will gave up. He got through work with no problem, although some of his students hooted and a few of them whistled when he walked in. “Hey, Mr. Graham, did you lose another bet?” Will wanted to crawl under the desk. “Um...yes. Let’s get started.” Will got through the rest of the day and drove to Hannibal’s place, where Will was greeted with a full meal, hot and ready for him. “How are you going to get through a whole weekend without feeding me?” “I will do my best,” Hannibal sighed. Hannibal disappeared briefly while Will herded his pack together and out to the car, and then Hannibal saw him off at the door. “Have a safe trip, Will, and I’ll see you Sunday night.” “Thanks, Hannibal. Have a good weekend.” His dogs were ecstatic at being home again and they ran around the yard, happily getting reacquainted with their territory and marking things. Will headed inside the house, turned on lamps, and started a load of laundry. Once it was going he headed back outside to bring in his bags, but to his surprise, there was an item in his car that he didn’t remember packing. It was a large insulated bag. Intrigued, he carried his bags inside, fetched the insulated bag, and opened it. Inside were four casserole dishes, clearly labeled Lunch or Dinner. On the top of the first dish was a folded letter. Dear Will, he read. You’ve been through a great deal in a short amount of time, so I thought I would remove one worry from your plate by filling your plate at mealtimes. I hope you enjoy these meals. Please be sure to bring the empty dishes back with you when you return on Sunday. Until then, enjoy yourself. Hannibal Will shook his head and grinned. He doubted that he’d ever be eating his own cooking again while Hannibal was his guardian. He packed the dishes into the fridge and found himself looking forward to what he’d be eating the following day. He and his dogs turned in for the night once the clothes were in the dryer and they spent Saturday quietly. Will pulled on his waders and went fishing without intending to catch anything, just so he could enjoy the quiet and the sound of the water. Later, he and his dogs went for a long walk through the woods and returned home tired and muddy. He warmed up the first of Hannibal’s dishes and ate it, and despite not knowing what was in the dish, he enjoyed every bit. He spent the afternoon tying some flies and working on a motor, and after dinner he read for a while before hitting the sack. It was an hour or two after lunch on Sunday when his phone rang. He glanced at the screen and winced when he saw it was Jack. This could not be good. Gathering his mental defenses around him, he picked up the call. “Hello?” “Will, it’s me. I’ve got some news for you.” Usually when it was a case, Jack would lead with that. “News?” “Have you seen the latest on Tattlecrime.com?” “No. I don’t make a habit of reading it. Makes me pissed.” “Well, you’re in it. You and Hannibal.” “Excuse me?” “There’s an article about you and Hannibal on Tattlecrime. About the guardianship. If I were you, I’d check on it. Rumors are going to be flying.” “Okay.” Will hung up then and brought up Tattlecrime.com. Sure enough, the headline made him wince, and then it made him swear. Freddie Lounds had outdone herself.


	6. Chapter 6

KILLER CATCHER WILL GRAHAM IN GUARDIANSHIP--IS THE STRAIN TOO MUCH FOR FAMED FBI SPECIALIST?

 

Will supposed it could have been worse.  It could have been a lot worse. Most people tended to scan just a headline if they weren’t really interested in a topic, so the number of people reading it...no, he was kidding himself.  Lately, Freddie’s articles about him had been the most read on Tattlecrime. Lots of people were reading this.

 

_ Graham has been identified as Highly Gifted under the National Gifted Law.  This reporter has just learned through a reliable source that Will Graham has been consigned into state care, under the guardianship of Dr. Hannibal Lecter, MD, of Baltimore.  Mr. Graham was recalled from the classrooms at Quantico to help the BAU track down some of the most savage killers in recent times due to Graham’s unique gifts of empathizing with the killers and figuring out how they think by taking on their thought processes himself.  While no one can argue with Graham’s success, it must still be noted that Graham’s gifts can cause him to be unpredictable and occasionally unstable.  _

 

Will groaned when he read that.  Great. Just great. He was going to sic his dogs on her if she showed up at his house.  It didn’t matter if they swarmed her and begged for treats, the amount of dog hair and drool on her coat would make up for that.

 

_ Recently Mr. Graham’s health has been giving cause for concern and warning signs that all was not as it should be culminated in Graham collapsing while he taught a class a month ago.  In accordance with the National Gifted Act, Graham reported to a medical facility for tests and a psychological evaluation. Both the physician and psychologist seeing Graham recommended a guardianship for him and the case was referred to Judge Charles Peterson in Baltimore.  Judge Peterson is an expert on the National Gifted Act and all cases in the tri-state area are referred to him. _

 

Will wondered just who had gotten their hands on his file and just how much they’d been paid for it.  The article went on to outline how Will’s mind was in a fragile state, how underweight he was, and how he was not well.  It stated that for Will’s well-being, Judge Peterson had had no choice but to declare a guardianship. The article went on to speculate about just how much physical or mental care Will needed and if he were capable of continuing his profiling work for the FBI--or if it was the profiling work that was responsible for his present state.

 

No wonder Jack was pissed.

 

Sighing, Will put his laptop aside and stretched out on his couch, joined a moment later by Winston.  He was not relishing returning to Baltimore this evening or his work on Monday. Some of his students were sure to have read the damned article and they were smart enough to put two and two together and come up with one teacher in guardianship.  Since guardianship and the National Gifted Act was still so new, adults in guardianship were rare, and everyone was curious about them. He had a strong feeling that his life would not be a quiet one for the next few years.

 

Sometimes he wondered if being a boat motor mechanic would be an easier life.

  
  


He should have expected the crowd of reporters and cameras outside of Hannibal’s house when he arrived that evening.  He was just heading down the street to Hannibal’s when he got a text.

 

_ Pull straight into the garage and do not leave the car until the garage doors are closed. _

 

The closer he got to the house, the bigger the media circus got, and the more clowns there were.  Will worked on keeping his expression neutral while reporters and camera operators surrounded his car, flashing away and shouting questions.  Fortunately, his dogs were great distractions, barking at the intruders and standing up to get a better look at all the hubbub outside. Feeling half-blinded and deafened, Will pulled up the driveway and into the garage, while people clustered about the door, shouting questions and snapping photos.  The doors closed and taking a deep breath, Will got out of his car.

 

“So, Will, any comments on your guardianship?”

 

“AAAAAH!!!” Will screamed, startled out of his wits and reaching for where he usually holstered his gun.

 

Freddie Lounds backed up as the dogs deluged her and the inner door to the house snapped open to reveal Hannibal.  “Will! Are you all right?!”

 

“Yes!” Will gasped, holding his chest over his heart.  “No thanks to Ms. Lounds, here.”

 

“Ms. Lounds, I am certain that this qualifies as breaking and entering.”

 

“Sorry, it was unintentional,” Freddie said, flashing Hannibal an innocent look.  “I was a little too close to the garage door and had to dodge out of the way before it whacked me in the head.  I went the wrong way.”

 

Hannibal looked Freddie up and down and sighed.  “I see. Are you certain that’s what happened?”

 

“Very certain.  If you don’t believe me, you can check the door for some of my hair--it was a close call.  Um, could you call them off, please?” She was in the center of a sea of very active and drooly dogs.

 

“You deserve dog hair and drool on your clothes, and I hope one of them leaves a little present on your shoes,” Will snarled, still holding his chest and feeling a bit shaky.  “You scared the life out of me! You’re lucky I wasn’t wearing my gun!”

 

“Deep breaths, Will,” Hannibal said, sounding a bit concerned at how quickly Will was breathing.

 

Will struggled to comply and Hannibal fetched Will’s bags for him.  “Let’s go inside. You, too, Ms. Lounds.”

 

“Oh, thank you,” Freddie breathed, following them in.  “I don’t mind dogs as a rule, but a number of them can be overwhelming.”

 

“Well, they love people,” Will snapped.  “They’re going to be all over you, trying to make friends.”

 

Hannibal put the bags aside as soon as they were in the house and led Will and Freddie into the kitchen, where he poured Will something to drink.  “Something to drink, Ms. Lounds?”

 

“I’ll have whatever he’s having, thank you.”  She took the glass of clouded yellow liquid and sipped.  “Mmm. I didn’t know you made lemonade.”

 

“I felt something tart and refreshing would be appropriate, given the circumstances.  Will, drink that slowly, and I’ll let your pack out for you. It might be best if you stayed inside for right now.”

 

Will didn’t argue and sipped at his drink.  Hannibal was right about it being refreshing.  A few sips and he felt more like himself. “I don’t believe you got in here accidentally.”

 

“I don’t plan everything, Will, just most things.  This was not planned.”

 

“But fortunate?”

 

“Perhaps.”

 

Hannibal was back in a few moments, reporting to Will that there had been no problems and the dogs were happily having their supper in the sitting room.  “I hope you’ll join us for supper, Ms. Lounds,” Hannibal added a moment later.

 

Will stared at him.  Had Hannibal taken leave of his senses?

 

“That would be lovely, thank you,” Freddie answered, giving him her best reporter smile.  “I do have to warn you, though, I’m a vegetarian.”

 

Hannibal returned the smile.  “Not to worry. I can rustle up something that we’ll all enjoy.  Why don’t you and Will take your drinks to the dining room and relax there?”

 

Freddie headed to the dining room but Will lingered.  “Okay, who are you and what have you done with Hannibal?”

 

Hannibal glanced up from the pan on the stove.  “Sorry?”

 

“You’ve invited Freddie Lounds to dinner,” Will reminded him.  “Freddie Lounds. You know she’s going to write the most inaccurate article of all time after dinner.”

 

“I’m not worried, Will,” Hannibal said evenly.  “Go entertain our guest, please, and I’ll be in in a few minutes.”

 

Will wondered what Hannibal’s reaction would be if he smacked him upside the head with one of his expensive saucepans, but he headed to the dining room instead.  The table had already been set for three, which made Will wonder if Hannibal had prescient abilities. Will dropped into the chair across from Freddie and sipped at his lemonade, determined not to give her anything she could use to write another damned article.

 

“So, how was your first week being in guardianship, Will?” Freddie asked.  

 

“I’d dearly love to know who told you about it.”

 

“A lady reveals nothing.”

 

Oh, if he could be rude he would state that there wasn’t a lady in the room but nobody would have to look far to find a...but, no.  Hannibal’s manners were always impeccable and he would die of mortification if someone under his roof were rude to a guest. After everything Hannibal had done for him, Will owed him that much, at least.

 

The temptation was almost painful, though.  “Things have been fine.”

 

“I know that according to the National Gifted Act Hannibal is responsible for your well-being,” Freddie pressed.  “How does he ensure your well-being, Will?”

 

“A couple of different ways.”

 

She raised an eyebrow.  “Care to elaborate?”

 

“Not really.”

 

“The animosity in here is thick enough to cut,” Hannibal said, carrying something in on a serving plate.  “Should I have brought my chef’s knives?”

 

“Will doesn’t feel much like talking,” Freddie said, leaning back in her chair, but then she leaned forward.  “Wow. That looks incredible!”

 

“Sartu di roso,” Hannibal said, moving to his seat and cutting into the dish.  “It’s a Neapolitan risotto timbale, with tomato, basil, vegetables, and mozzarella cooked in the center.  A simple but satisfying dish. With it, we have a spinach and pesto salad with goat cheese and walnuts. I hope you enjoy it.”

 

Hannibal served each of them, making sure each portion was plated perfectly, and he poured the appropriate wine to go with the meal.  Hannibal and Freddie kept up a steady conversation where she asked questions and he evaded them. Will worked his way through the salad and most of the sartu before he put his fork down, his appetite gone.  What he really wanted to do was probably not appropriate for the dinner table and would involve far too much blood on Hannibal’s expensive flooring.

 

“You’ve not eaten much,” Hannibal said during a pause in Freddie’s questions.  “Feeling all right, Will?”

 

“My appetite’s not too great tonight.  Don’t know what it is.”

 

Hannibal glanced at him and in that glance Will knew that Hannibal knew exactly what the problem was.  It was infuriating that Hannibal was doing nothing about it. “Well, perhaps your appetite will return with dessert.”

 

Freddie looked at Hannibal in surprise.  “Do you cook like this every night?”

 

“I have a passion for the culinary arts, Ms. Lounds,” Hannibal answered, rising from the table.  “I’ll just be a moment.”

 

“You lucky man,” Freddie said, sipping her wine.  “Does he really cook like this for you every day?”

 

“He likes cooking.”  

 

“Yeah, but what I want to know is if he cooks like this because it’s you.”

 

Will stared at her.  “How much of that wine have you had?”

 

“Here we are,” Hannibal said, carrying in three plates.  “Chestnut Mont Blancs.”

 

Freddie stared at the dessert plate Hannibal placed in front of her.  “Woah. How did you…I mean, what…?” She paused and looked apologetic. “Sorry.  I’ve never had a Mont Blanc before.”

 

“It only looks complicated,” Hannibal assured her.  “On a circle of pastry, you place a tall sweet baked meringue, then a layer of whipped cream is piped around it.  On top of that a layer of chestnut butter is piped, and then a layer of powdered sugar is sifted over the result. It’s a simple dessert that just looks impressive.”

 

“Only you would say that,” Will told Hannibal, admiring the creation on his plate.  So saying, he picked up his dessert spoon and scooped up a bite. Once it was melting on his tongue he sighed in bliss.  Hannibal had definitely missed his true calling. 

 

“How’s the appetite, Will?” Hannibal teased.  

 

“It’s back,” Will admitted, taking a second bite.

 

“So, Ms. Lounds, with all your questions tonight I can’t help but think you wish a story.”

 

“I am a reporter,” she reminded Hannibal.  “It would be great if I could get a picture of you two at the table.”

 

Will wondered if someone could “pie” someone else with a Mont Blanc.  “Why would you need a picture?”

 

“People would love a glimpse into the life of a ward and guardian,” she answered.  “Everyone wants to hear about wards and the Gifted now.”

 

Will looked at Hannibal.  “Tell me you poisoned her Mont Blanc.”

 

Having just taken a bite, Freddie froze.

 

“Aside from it being very rude to poison a guest, I would never do that to the food.”  Hannibal topped up Will’s wine. “Given that Ms. Lounds risked her neck to duck inside the garage just as the door was closing, I have to say that I am considering her request.”

 

“Absolutely not,” Will said firmly.  

 

“I didn’t duck into the garage, I was dodging the door,” Freddie insisted.

 

“Please give me some credit, Ms. Lounds,” Hannibal said pleasantly.  “Your hair is distinctive, and I could see you quite clearly from the window.”

 

Will noted with relief that all of the curtains were drawn.  It was a statement to how drawn out he was that he hadn’t thought of the windows until now.  

 

“What do you think of Ms. Lounds’ request, Will?” Hannibal asked.  “Would you be willing to sit for a short interview?”

 

“Not in this lifetime,” Will snapped.  “I read your last article, and I really didn’t like it.”

 

“I wrote nothing that wasn’t already in speculation,” Freddie protested.  “Plenty of people are saying things that are a lot worse.”

 

“That doesn’t make what you’re saying any better,” Will reminded her, but he was interrupted by Hannibal leaning forward and saying, “Might one ask whom?”

 

Belatedly Will remembered just how sharp Hannibal kept those knives.  He looked ready to use them, too.

 

“Sorry, but like I told Will, a lady reveals nothing,” Freddie told him.

 

“And it would be unforgivable if a gentleman were to persist,” Hannibal added, leaning back in his chair.  “Very well, I’ll just have to be intrigued, but I do think that we should consider this article, Will.”

 

“Again, I’m wondering just who you are and what you’ve done with Hannibal,” Will said flatly.  

 

Hannibal gave him one of those enigmatic smiles.  “With one journalist who is already acquainted with us, I think it would be quite easy to give a short interview and then be done with all of it.  It’s the best way to get the major news outlets to call off the hounds, so to speak.”

 

Will grasped it.  “Oh. What you’re saying is that we’d no longer be a story.”

 

For the first time, Freddie looked a bit uneasy.  There were plenty of readers who enjoyed stories about Will Graham and his unique abilities and cases and there was always a noticeable drop in readership when there hadn’t been any stories on him for a while.

 

“Just think about it,” Hannibal advised Will.  “It doesn’t have to be tonight. More wine, Ms. Lounds?”

 

After dinner was finished Will and Freddie helped Hannibal clear away and wash the dishes and they headed to Hannibal’s study, where Hannibal played the harpsichord for them.  Will had never heard the piece that Hannibal played and said so once he and Freddie had applauded.

 

“It’s a little something I’ve been working on,” Hannibal admitted.  “Once the tune started in my head, it wouldn’t let me alone. Rather like a little yappy dog.”

 

Will fought down a chuckle.  “Is that what you’re going to call it? ‘Little Yappy Dog’?”

 

“Perhaps ‘Poptart.’”

 

“Sounds like there’s an amusing story behind that,” Freddie said, looking curious.

 

“One of Will’s dogs and I have come to an understanding after a great deal of misunderstanding at the beginning,” Hannibal explained.  “That’s all.”

 

Hannibal turned the talk to other topics then, mostly the Baltimore Opera’s latest fundraiser and an art showing that Hannibal had attended the week previously.  Whenever Freddie started to dig in with her questions, Hannibal was able to deflect her. 

 

“Now, Ms. Lounds, please don’t get happy fingers and type something just the for sake of typing it,” Hannibal said as he showed their guest to the door later that evening.  “Remember, Will said he would consider that interview.”

 

Will did a double-take.  “I did? When?”

 

Both Hannibal and Freddie ignored the question.  “Thank you for a lovely evening, Dr. Lecter,” Freddie said, shaking his hand.  “Will, it was lovely to see you. Can’t wait to see you again!”

 

Once the curly-headed nemesis was gone, Will rounded on Hannibal.  “I never said I’d sit for that damn interview!”

 

“I think it would be a good idea,” Hannibal answered.  

 

“In what universe would being interviewed by Freddie Lounds be a good idea?”

 

“We can give her a story and she’ll lead the retreat once the press has the story it came to get.”

 

“And she’ll distort it into something unrecognizable!” Will almost wailed, feeling as if here trying to build a wall out of dry sand.  “Once they read it, people will take it as gospel truth and then we’ll never have any peace!”

 

“She may surprise us both, Will.”

 

Will resisted the urge to throw something.  “In the worst way possible.”

 

Will would have argued more, but Hannibal held up a hand.  “We can discuss it further in the morning, but I believe we both need to get some sleep.  It’s been a long day.”

 

“Why don’t we hash this out tonight so we don’t have to think about it anymore?” Will suggested.

 

Hannibal gave him yet another of those damned smiles of his and looked him up and down.

 

Will blinked, confused.  “What?”

 

“You know, with your height and weight, I could probably carry you to your room.”

 

“Just because you’re my guardian now doesn’t mean you get to treat me like a kid, Hannibal.”

 

“You’re being as obstinate as a child right now, Will.”

 

The urge to throw something was now overwhelming.  “Fine. We’ll discuss it in the morning.” 

 

Will went to his sitting room, let his dogs out into the run, and stayed just inside the doorway so he couldn’t be seen.  He whistled to the dogs after a quarter hour and they stampeded into the hall, past the sitting room, and up the stairs, and Poptart let out a joyful yip.

 

“Hello, yappy one,” Hannibal said as the dogs swarmed around him in the upstairs hallway.  He was already in his pajamas and robe for the night and he looked at Will as he came upstairs.  “Any problems with the hoi polloi outside?”

 

“None at all.”

 

“Good.  I’m going to make sure everything’s locked up for the night.  Pleasant dreams, Will.”

 

“You too, Hannibal.”

 

Will got ready for bed quickly and dropped into bed with his pack around him.  His last thought was that he hoped it got really cold during the hours between now and dawn so the press outside spent a miserable night.

  
  


His phone ringing woke him up in the morning.  Will groaned and rolled over. It was Jack. This could not be good.  “Hello?”

 

“ _ Morning _ ,” Jack said flatly.  “ _ You know, you and Hannibal might have to hire a publicist if this keeps up _ .”

 

“If what keeps up?” Will croaked, still not awake, and then he checked the time.  “Jack, it’s not even five o’clock yet! Is there a case?”

 

“ _ Nope, just a media frenzy, _ ” Jack said.  “ _ Figured I should warn you.  Check out Tattlecrime. _ ”  With that, he hung up.  

 

Will brought up Tattlecrime on his phone and groaned.  AN EVENING WITH DR. LECTER AND HIS WARD, WILL GRAHAM.

 

Freddie hadn’t even bothered to wait for the damned interview.  Somewhere on her person, she’d had a camera concealed, and she’d been taking pictures all night long.  There was a photo of them in the garage, another in the kitchen, some in the dining room, and some in the sitting room.  She’d even gotten a photo of Will’s sitting room and his bedroom! Each of the photos had captions and all of them had the patented Freddie Lounds journalistic spin.   _ Dr. Lecter greets his ward after a long day full of challenges.  Dr. Lecter prepares dinner. Dr. Lecter makes sure his ward is eating well.  Dr. Lecter surprises his ward with a dessert. Dr. Lecter plays a newly-composed piece for his ward. _  The last photo was absolutely mortifying: she’d managed to get a picture through a crack in the curtains in the hallway, and it was when Hannibal insisted that Will go to bed.  The caption nearly made him die from embarrassment.  _ Dr. Lecter wishes his ward pleasant dreams.   _ In each photo she’d manage to capture just how Will had been feeling at the moment.  Will had felt overwhelmed when he arrived in the garage last night, and it showed in the photo.  In the photo of them at the table, Will had been looking at his dinner and Hannibal had been speaking to Will, and it looked as if Hannibal were a father telling his kid to clean his plate, and Will’s expression matched what a kid would be feeling at that moment.  He had been surprised with the dessert, and he’d enjoyed listening to Hannibal play. It was just honest enough to be a believable lie, and enough of a lie that people wouldn’t hesitate to believe it!

 

He headed straight to Hannibal’s room, knocked on the door, and went in.  “Look at this!”

 

Hannibal jerked awake and sat up.  “What? What is it, Will?”

 

“Our dear Ms. Lounds decided not to wait for any interview.”

 

Hannibal took Will’s phone and blinked at it sleepily, scrolling through the photos and the accompanying story.  “Hmmm. That sly little minx.”

 

“I could think of a better word,” Will snarled.

 

“Let’s not be vulgar, Will,” Hannibal said, smothering a yawn.  “What time is it?”

 

“Just before five.  Jack called and told me about this.”

 

“Sometimes I doubt Uncle Jack sleeps,” Hannibal sighed, smoothing his hair out of his eyes.  “Looks like we won’t be extending our hospitality to Ms. Lounds again anytime soon.”

 

“Can I say ‘I told you so’ now?” Will wanted to know.  “She’s always up to something and it usually comes back to bite us.”

 

Hannibal got out of bed.  “You can say ‘I told you so’ if this continues to bite,” he said, handing Will’s phone back to him.  “It’s a good thing you have the day off today; we can both go back to bed and get some more sleep.”

 

Will glanced at Hannibal’s sleepy eyes.  “How late did you stay up late reading last night?  And what about your patients?”

 

“Only an hour or so, and I have no patients until this afternoon.  We both have some time. Go get some more rest, Will, and try not to worry, all right?  You’ll feel better if you get some more sleep.”

 

Will gave up and went back to bed after letting the dogs out and bringing them back in.  He woke up around eleven and found Hannibal in the kitchen, preparing lunch. He ate the soup and salad Hannibal had prepared and told him to have a good day at his office.

 

“Thank you, Will,” Hannibal said.  “Make sure to lock the door after me, all right?  I’ll be home this evening at seven-thirty.”

 

“See you then,” Will told him.  He locked the door as Hannibal requested and headed to his sitting room to spend time with his dogs.  He spent an hour or two tying flies and then turned on the television for a few minutes. Yep, he and Hannibal were still in the news.  Sighing, he turned it off again and started a game of fetch. At six-thirty he went to the kitchen, looked at what was in the fridge, and grinned.  Even he could manage steak and loaded baked potatoes.

 

He was just placing the food on the dining room table when Hannibal arrived home.  “Will?”

 

“Surprise,” Will said.  “I hope you like it.”

 

“It looks marvelous,” Hannibal said, unbuttoning his coat.  “I’ll join you in just a moment.”

 

Hannibal returned after hanging up his coat and scarf.  “Did you have an enjoyable day?”

 

“It was quiet,” Will admitted.  “The dogs enjoyed having me at home.  I saw us both on the news earlier.”

 

“Yes, an acquaintance in town mentioned it when he saw me,” Hannibal said.  “I reminded him not to get carried away by the press, and he agreed with me.”  He cut a portion of the steak and smiled. “Mmm. You prepared the steak the way I showed you before.”

 

“It wasn’t hard to pick up.”

 

It was a good evening, and Will went to bed feeling as if things were a little better.  He got up in the morning, showered and dressed for work, and he had breakfast with Hannibal.

 

“I think I should drive you to work today,” Hannibal said as they cleaned up.  

 

“Why?”

 

“The Bentley has tinted windows.”

 

“They’ll still see two people in the car.”

 

“Not if you’re down on the floor and covered with blanket,” Hannibal told him.  “They’ll be able to see only me leaving, so they’ll think I’m leaving for work and that you’re still here.  That means they’ll be here all day, hovering and waiting for you to come out, which also means that we won’t be followed.”

 

“Wouldn’t they follow you, too?”

 

“You’re the ward, Will, and everyone’s curious about the ward.  The guardian is just a necessary accessory.”

 

Will got a little nervous once they were in the car and he was uneasy about not being able to see.  Hearing things without seeing them was even worse. Hannibal backed the car out of the garage and Will could hear the press swarming it.  “Dr. Lecter! Dr. Lecter! This way, Dr. Lecter!” Will felt the car backing cautiously out of the driveway and then turning, and then they were driving.

 

“You can get up, Will,” Hannibal said after a minute or two.

 

“Do you think any of them suspected?” Will asked, folding the blanket and sliding into his seat before reaching for the seatbelt.

 

“I saw a few of them looking at your car as if they expected you to start backing out, so they’re probably still back there, waiting for you.”

 

“They’re going to be waiting a long time.”

 

“That they are.”

 

Will got through his classes that day with determination and a great deal of patience, and he was at his desk that evening marking papers when Jack showed up.

 

“Hi, Jack,” Will said, but then he got a look at Jack’s expression.  “What is it? A case?”

 

“Yeah.  A police department outside Baltimore just sent me the photos.  They’re in my office.”

 

Nerves jangling, Will went with him.  The photos Jack handed him were of an elaborate crime scene, staged to look like a child’s tea party.  Each person at the table was dressed in oversized children’s outfits and they stared ahead of them with wide eyes, hands clenched around teacups.  The table itself was covered with a feast of sweets, like a tall, frosted cake, a bowl of multicolored lollipops, and plates of cookies and miniature pies.  Will looked, and then looked again. “Jack, the people in this photo...are they still alive?”

 

“Yeah; all alive, which makes this a very unusual case.  All of them are in the hospital, a little bruised and out of their skulls with drugs, but they’re alive.  No word on what they were given yet, the tox screens have yet to come back. If we’re lucky, we’ll be able to question them.  The reason why I wanted you to see this case is on the table.”

 

Will looked.  Place cards at the table stated names like  _ Billy _ or  _ Sally _ or  _ Johnny _ , but there was one card at the only empty place at the table that made Will’s blood run cold.  

 

_ Will Graham _ .


	7. Chapter 7

Will complained to Jack about the protective detail. He didn’t feel it was necessary since he was an FBI agent, but Jack insisted on it. He stated that he would be remiss in his obligations since Will was Gifted.

“What obligations?” Will groaned. “You’re not my guardian, you know.”

“And I’m questioning that judge’s wisdom all the time in regards to that decision,” Jack snapped. “You’re having a protection detail, Will. End of discussion.”

Jack turned to Beverly and started discussing logistics with her and Will started to turn to his work when he heard the word Hannibal. “What about Hannibal?”

“We have to let Hannibal know, Will, he’s your guardian.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t want to be bothered over this. It’s not important.”

Jack gave him a long look and the expression on his face said clearly, I am struggling not to slap you right now. “If something happens that involves a ward, we are legally obligated to tell the guardian. Until we can figure out this guy’s brand of crazy and stop him, then we are going to take every precaution to make sure you don’t take a seat at that table in the picture.”

Will gave up. He felt far too tired to argue any longer. He went back to work on his files and jumped in surprise when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, Will,” Hannibal said, a visitor badge affixed to his lapel. “Are you all right?”

“I was just in my own little world,” Will admitted. “Is it time to go?”

“Yes. Jack told me about the latest crime scene and he asked if I could accompany all of you to it. Is that all right with you?”

Will nodded. “Yeah. That’s fine.”

It wasn’t long before they were in a set of cars and heading to the scene. Will curled up in the back seat and pretended to nap, just so he wouldn’t have to talk to people. He didn’t want to field everyone’s questions about how he was and so on. He had a feeling that he would be hearing it a lot.

He actually started to doze by the time they arrived and he jerked awake when the car shut off. The scene had been taped off and a crowd of police were there, processing the scene. Jack turned in the front seat and looked back at Will. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

They got out of the car and approached the scene. Jack and Will flashed their IDs and they were allowed in. Jack started clearing the scene so Will could work, and both he and Hannibal stood back so they wouldn’t distract Will. Will looked at the scene from multiple angles, crouched down to examine the table, stood upright, and closed his eyes.

_I want it to be perfect. I want it to be the perfect party for him. I have friends for him so he can have fun, and I have so many treats and other nice things. I want him to know...to know...that I’ll take care of him. I’ll protect him. Once he sits at the table, he and I won’t have to worry about anything anymore._

Will’s eyes opened. That was it. Images had flashed through his head of the perp stalking and drugging the victims, of him carting everything out to this beach, and setting everything up. He’d wanted it to be so inviting that Will couldn’t resist coming there and joining the party. He viewed him as a child in need of care and protection. Clearly, his new status as a ward only reinforced that image and had probably set this crime off--the perfect time to offer the invitation. Being declared Gifted and a ward had probably only proven this man’s perception of Will correct.

This was not good. He would see the release of the victims and the dismantling of the scene as a rejection, which might lead the perp to trying again--making a bigger, better party, or perhaps something else he felt would be appealing. Shaking off the perp’s thoughts, Will motioned Jack and Hannibal over to share what he’d figured out.

“Any guesses as to what he’ll do next?” Jack wanted to know.

“Hard to say, really,” Will admitted. “All I can say for certain is that he’ll try again.”

Hannibal had been looking over the crime scene photos that included the victims. “All of his victims will be of the same physical type as Will, just as these are.”

That made Will and Jack both grab for the photos and stare at them. The women were small and petite and the men were slight and built just as Will was. “My God, you’re right,” Jack said, handing the photos back with an apology. “Okay, I am now officially worried.”

“If he’s fixated on me, then it shouldn’t surprise me,” Will said, digging out some Kleenex after he fought down a sneeze. His nose had been running for the last few minutes and he was sure that the clouds moving overhead was the weather system responsible for his worsening headache. He sneezed for real and buried his face in the Kleenex.

“I don’t feel Will should be working this case,” Hannibal said suddenly.

Both Will and Jack stared at Hannibal. “WHAT?”

“If Will is the target of this madman, then it would be best for his safety and his mental well-being if he were not to work on the case,” Hannibal repeated. “Isn’t it against policy for someone with a connection to a case not to work it?”

“We need Will on this case if we’re to have any hope of stopping this guy in a timely manner,” Jack persisted.

“I don’t feel it would be good for Will, though,” Hannibal said.

“But Will…”

“Uh, Will is right here and Will is getting tired of being discussed as if he isn’t here,” Will cut in. “I want to work it, Hannibal. Jack is right; we’ll have a better chance of catching this guy quickly if I work the case.”

Hannibal looked him up and down. “Are you certain, Will?”

“Yes.”

Hannibal looked him over again. “All right.”

Will blinked. “That...that was a little too easy. You agreed awful quick, Hannibal.”

“I’m going to trust you on this, Will. I can certainly keep an eye on you while you’re working the case, and if I feel it necessary to step in, I will. In the meantime, you can do as you need to.”

Both Will and Jack were starting at him.

“Oh, dear, I believe I’ve shocked you both into silence. I was wondering what it would take.”

His wry comment made them both fight back smiles and go back to work. An hour later they received a call from the hospital that the victims were starting to wake up. Then followed several hours of questions and taking down their answers. None of them had seen their attacker approach them, none of them had seen his face, but all of them said that his voice sounded “weird,” sort of “high-pitched and giggly.”

“He was a bit handsy,” one of the male victims said. “Kept patting me on the head.”

The other victims had had similar experiences. They remembered feeling really out of it due the drugs they’d been given, they remembered the man dressing them and placing them at the table, and then they’d been stuck there, unable to move. Their little tea party had been in a park and it had been a park ranger that had found them and called the police and a medical team.

“He kept talking about some guy named Will,” one of the women said. “He’d say things like ‘Once Will gets here we’ll have so much fun,’ and things like that. I’m kinda worried for this Will guy.”

Will didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure if he could.

 

He and Hannibal left Quantico around eight that night, and Hannibal drove them both to Baltimore. To Will’s surprise, Hannibal didn’t drive home; instead he drove to Angelo’s. “Believe it or not, but I don’t feel like cooking tonight, and I’m sure you don’t, either,” Hannibal said as he parked the car. “Let’s get something to eat.”

Will followed him, not inclined to argue in the least. He wasn’t hungry, but he did feel sort of hollow. All he wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep for about eight hours, but food would have to do for the time being. Perhaps if he ate something hot the cold feeling that had settled in his stomach would go away.

“Ah, polpetto!” Angelo cried when he spied them from the kitchen. A moment later he was ushering them to a table with little movements of his hands. “Welcome, welcome! Sit, sit, sit, and I shall bring you something delicious!”

Will watched as Angelo rushed away. “Shouldn’t he have taken our orders?”

“I believe it is chef’s special tonight,” Hannibal said as a waiter poured wine for them. “It’s bound to be good.”

The first course was arancini, just as Will had been hoping for. He dug into them happily and was just finishing them when Angelo brought two bowls of soup for them, tortellini in broth with herbs, accompanied by a basket of steaming breadsticks and an Insalata Caprese. Will tried the insalata, but he really preferred the tortellini soup. The next course was chicken piccata on a bed of angel hair pasta with peas and mushrooms, and then Angelo brought out dessert.

“Chocolate semifreddo with cream and angel wings,” he said grandly, placing their plates on the table. “Enjoy!”

“Wow,” Will breathed, seeing the dessert. The angel wings reminded him of funnel cakes, and they had been placed so that they stood upright in the semifreddo. Everything had been dusted with powdered sugar. “Thank you, Angelo!”

“Ah, it is a joy to cook for you, polpetto,” Angelo said warmly, patting Will on the shoulder.

Will happily dug into the semifreddo and as Hannibal paid the bill, Angelo reappeared with a box “for the polpetto, in case he becomes hungry later.”

“Are you implying that I’m failing to feed my ward, Angelo?”

Angelo waved a hand dismissively. “Ah, no! Still, sometimes, one does not want a full meal, but a mouthful instead. That is what these are. Both of you get home safely and I’ll see you soon, eh?”

Once they were in the car Will glanced in the box. Two dozen light little cakes filled with whipped cream and dusted with sugar. He liked how this Angelo thought. “These look good.”

Hannibal glanced at the box. “They smell delicious.”

Was that yearning Will could hear in his voice? He’d never known Hannibal to really yearn after sweets. “I’d be willing to share.”

“Angelo meant them for you, Will,” Hannibal protested.

“I can’t eat all of them myself, so I’m counting on you helping me.”

An almost silent chuckle, and then, “All right.”

It was a peaceful drive home and with a quick presto-change-o with a blanket and the floor of the Bentley, Hannibal was able to smuggle Will past the reporters without any of them being any wiser.

“Amazing what timers on your lights will do,” Hannibal remarked as they got out of the car. “They probably thought you were here all day.”

“Unless one of the reporters at the crime scene realized who I was,” Will pointed out.

“There were very few of them,” Hannibal said as they headed inside. “Jack had made sure that the press had been held off while we were there.”

Will thought about past crime scenes. Really sensational ones like the one he’d been to that day tended to have a lot of press around it in a short time. Why had this crime scene been different?

“Those cakes need refrigeration,” Hannibal told him, holding his hands out for the box. “Why don’t I put them away for you and you can take care of your dogs?”

“Thanks,” Will said, heading for his sitting room. He opened the door and a cloud of feathers poured out into the hall. “What in the…?” Looking inside, he figured it out in seconds. One of them had gotten bored and had decided a cushion needed attacking.

Will heard steps behind him just as the dogs realized he was home. A few joyful barks and they flooded into the hallway, trailing feathers. It looked as if a bunch of chickens had decided to stage a march mid-molt.

“Dear Lord,” Hannibal said quietly with a note of shock in his voice. He looked around at the feathers floating in the hallway and covering the floor, and then he stared into in Will’s sitting room.

“I’m really sorry,” Will said, shepherding them back into the sitting room and toward the door that led to the outside. “I swear, I’ll clean this up and replace the cushion…”

“From the amount of feathers, I’d say cushions,” Hannibal said, picking a tiny down feather off of his sleeve while failing to notice the one that had landed in his hair. “I’m not really worried about the cushions, though, Will. One of your dogs is missing.”

Startled, Will glanced around. “Poptart! Here, Poptart!” He started searching under the furniture, but it was Hannibal who found her, hiding in the corpses of the slaughtered pillows.

“I have her, Will,” Hannibal said, picking Poptart up in both hands and then holding her out at arm’s length. She looked like the epitome of guilty, feather-bedizened canine. “Madam, you and I need to have a serious talk.”

 

Will threw himself into his work over the ensuing week. There had been no communication from their latest unsub and there had been no further victims, so Will examined photos, medical reports, mock-ups, and worked on his profile while he kept up with his classes. He knew what the guy had been thinking about when he’d set up the scene, but he didn’t understand just why the guy was so fixated on him and making things “perfect” for him. He had a hunch that if he could figure that out, they would be one step closer to finding a suspect.

The media circus gradually died down in the week after that, but Jack had insisted Will keep a protective detail.

“Nothing’s happened, Jack,” Will reminded him.

“Doesn’t mean nothing will,” Jack shot back. “Trust me, I’d rather not have the government and Dr. Lecter angry with me if anything happened to you after I told the detail to stand down. They’re staying until we catch this guy.”

“It could be a long time.”

“They’re patient guys.”

The only other thing of note that happened during this time was that a book had come out, written by the same guy who’d started the movement about the Gifted. It was, of all things, a guide for caretakers on how best to help their wards thrive. Will saw a few people at Quantico with copies and he wanted to snatch all of the books out of their hands and find a handy bonfire.

He didn’t expect to get home that evening and find Hannibal holding a copy of the same book.

“You have one of those books,” Will said, glaring at the object in question. “You really need a guide on having me live with you?”

“I did not purchase it; it was sent to me,” Hannibal said, opening the front cover and showing Will the flyleaf. On it was an inscription from the author, thanking Dr. Lecter for all his help with locating sources for the author’s research.

“You helped him write that damned paper?” Will said, his voice rising a bit.

“I did no such thing,” Hannibal assured him. “He wrote to me, asking where I would look for certain information and I wrote back, telling him where to look. That was the extent of my involvement. To be quite honest, I had forgotten about his letter until he published his paper and it gained so much attention.”

Will cringed inwardly. “Sorry. I’ve been seeing those books a lot at work lately and they have me on edge. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

Hannibal nodded. “Why do these books have you on edge?”

“I feel like people’ll read them and then look at me and start making comparisons with what they read. Sometimes I feel like I should just wear a scarlet letter so people won’t have to speculate.”

“Given those thoughts, no wonder you’re on edge. Apology accepted, Will. I would counsel you, though, not to pay so much attention to what others might be thinking. It’s likely that they may have purchased the books because there may be someone in their lives who might share your status.”

Will blinked. “Oh. Never thought of that. Thanks.”

Hannibal gave him a smile and clapped him on the shoulder. “What are friends for? Are you hungry?”

Will felt his stomach complain about how long it had been since lunch. “Starving.”

“Dinner’s ready, so once you’ve let your pack out, we can eat.”  
They were in the middle of washing the dishes when Will’s phone started ringing. Will dried his hands and pulled it out of his pocket, wishing he could turn it off once he saw the screen. He answered the call, bracing himself. “Hello, Jack.”

“I’m sending a car for you and Hannibal. There’s been another scene set up.”

Will felt his stomach flip-flop for a moment. “The victims?”

“All with the same physical build as you, all of them dressed up, just like last time, and all of them drugged out of their minds, but so far, no deaths. Ambulances just left, but the EMTs said that they’re all stable and likely to remain that way.”

Relief made him dizzy and he had to sink into the nearest chair. “Oh, thank God. Okay, I’ll let Hannibal know.”

Hannibal had heard Will’s side of the call. “Another?”

“Unfortunately. I’m going to let my dogs out so they don’t have to wait too long. Jack’s sending a car for us and since he said nothing about packing a bag, the scene’s nearby.”

“I’ll get our coats.”

The car ride was tense, Will dreading what they would find. What sort of fantasy had this guy cooked up this time?

Forty-five minutes later and they pulled into a small town outside of Baltimore. The scene had been set up in a vacant lot, but Jack had managed to get screens and tarps erected around the site so Will could work. There were a few reporters, but they were only local news, thank goodness.

“What is it?” Will asked as Jack handed him a pair of gloves.

“It’s weird, is what it is,” Jack said, holding the tarp aside for Will and Hannibal. “How nobody saw this guy putting it together is beyond me.”

Once they’d stepped into the site, both men had to agree. It had taken a huge amount of effort.

It was a playground. There were swings, a slide, a teeter-totter, a merry-go-round, two bouncy-horses, a jungle gym, and a sandbox. All the little touches were there to make it seem as if the kids had just left--there was a ball by the swings and a bucket and shovel in the sand. Chalk outlines showed where people had been: one person had been seated at the top of the slide, another two in the swings, one on the merry-go-round, and so on. How had this guy managed to subdue this many victims and assemble such an elaborate crime scene?

“I believe this is one for the textbooks,” Hannibal said, staring around at everything.

“I need some quiet,” Will said, his voice tight. He’d dealt in crazy before, but this transcended crazy. No, this went to some other level that didn’t make sense.

“We’ll guard the entrance,” Jack said, leading the way. “Come out when you’re ready.”

Once they were gone, Will closed his eyes and felt the pendulum swing. He could see it all in his head: choosing the site, selecting and subduing the victims, setting up the playground, and placing them all just so...just so...what?

Like the previous scene, place cards had been set out, designating a space for everyone, and just like the last scene, a place had been left for Will. Sighing, Will went to the spot designated for him: the furthest swing on the right. The place card had been left tied to the left chain. Taking a deep breath, Will sat down in the swing. The seat was high enough that his feet couldn’t reach the ground and he had to hold onto the chains to keep his balance. He sat there for a moment, thinking, and closed his eyes, feeling the pendulum swing once again.

A flash of light almost startled him out of the swing, and he opened his eyes in time to see someone’s arms reached as high as they could go above the screen, holding a camera aloft. Another flash, and then Will heard Jack shout. “HEY! THIS IS A CRIME SCENE!” The camera disappeared and the sound of feet scurrying away told Will that whoever it was had taken to their heels.

Will pushed off the swing and headed for the exit. “Anyone we know?” he asked, joining Hannibal. Jack was over with two cops, discussing the perimeter and keeping it more secure.

“No one I recognized, but then, I only saw their back,” Hannibal admitted. “Granted, I was looking in the other direction at the time. I was as surprised as Jack was. Did you get what you needed?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Will check his watch and stared at the time. It felt like they’d been there a lot longer.

Jack joined them. “Any thoughts, Will?”

“This guy doesn’t have just one or two people helping him, he has an entire network. The whole scene was built from scratch, so we’ll have one hell of a time tracking this guy down through his purchases. What he wants most of all is my attention, and I have to say, he’s got it.”

“Why all the kid stuff?”

“Legally, I’m somewhere between an adult and a child,” Will said before palming his eyes in an attempt to stave off a headache. “He’s trying to...I guess entice would be the word to use....he wants to entice me back into childhood. So far, a tea party, a playground...they’re both things that would appeal to a child. He wants me to join the fantasy and play with him. What I can’t tell you is why he wants to do that and why he’s fixated on me.”

That statement led to a barrage of questions that had Will’s head splitting after a half-hour. Hannibal waited patiently, checking his watch from time to time, and then he stepped forward. “I think you have enough to start with, Jack. We can pick this up in the morning, can’t we?”

Jack looked as if he wanted to protest, but something in Hannibal’s eyes made him realize that the good doctor was running out of patience. “All right. I’ll see you both in the morning.”

They were driven back to Hannibal’s and both of them headed inside. Will let out the dogs one final time and took them upstairs to his room, where he found Hannibal waiting outside his door, holding a mug. “Something you needed?”

“Something you needed, actually,” Hannibal said, holding out the mug. “To help with that headache and to help you sleep. Bottoms up, Will.”

Will took the mug and felt a bit of trepidation at the astringent smell coming off of it. “What is it?”

Hannibal smiled. “An old remedy from my aunt. It’s best drunk hot, so you should drink it quickly, before it cools.”

“Thanks,” Will said doubtfully. The mug was only half-full, which made it easy to drink it all in one go, but then the taste hit him and he gagged. “Aaaack! Oh, it’s awful! What was in this?”

Hannibal merely smiled. “Nothing that would hurt you. I used to complain about the taste, too, but my aunt had a very effective remedy to help with it.”

“The first remedy was bad enough,” Will said quickly, wondering if a drink of water would help. Whatever he’d swallowed was making his mouth water in a way that was unsettling, even after he’d swallowed it. What arcane herbal remedy did that? “I don’t think I’d trust any more remedies from your aunt after that one.”

Hannibal held out a wrapped caramel. “Are you sure? This will take away the taste.”

Will snatched the candy, tore off the wrapper, and crammed the sticky stuff into his mouth. After two chews, the horrible taste disappeared. “Ahhh…’at’s beh’er.”

“I’m glad it’s better,” Hannibal said, fighting down a chuckle while Will chewed to get rid of the caramel. “It should take effect in about fifteen minutes, so make sure you’re in bed by then. See you in the morning. Sleep well.”

“Thanks, Hannibal. For the medicine and everything. Good night.”

Hannibal smiled. “You’re most welcome, Will. Sweet dreams.”


End file.
